


You Were the Storm That Changed the Skyline

by Cinaed



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Cooking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Food Porn, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, POV Alternating, Post-Time Skip, Reunions, Slow Build, Sparring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Let’s meet again, out on Grand Line,” Gin had told an unconscious Straw Hat Luffy, and meant it. Three years later in the New World, he was finally going to keep that promise.</p><p>[Set some vague time post-time skip, after the Dressrosa arc.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gin

**Author's Note:**

> *shows up 17 years late to One Piece fandom with fic*
> 
> This fic will be updated every Sunday until it's complete! It's rated explicit for later chapters.
> 
> Pairings included or mentioned in this fic are: Gin/Sanji, Nami/OFC, Gin/OMCs, and Johnny/Yosaku. 
> 
> Thanks go out to vejiicakes and drcalvin for encouraging me with this and helping me out with characterization and ideas! This is written for the trope_bingo square "food porn." 
> 
> The title comes from [“After the Storm” by Lang Leav](http://cinaed.tumblr.com/post/109802423924/afterstorm).

When the waiter brought their meals, Renshaw took one look and whistled, loud enough that he got a few dirty looks from the neighboring diners.

The dirty looks faltered and shifted to apologetic or nervous expressions when Gin stared back.  

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to New World food,” Renshaw said, oblivious, and reached out a long finger to prod at something bright purple and spiny on his plate. He laughed and nudged at Jedrick, who sat on his right. “Hey, give me your medical opinion here, doc. Alive or dead?”  

Jedrick, grimacing, leaned back in his chair. It wobbled dangerously until Gin reached out and steadied it. Jedrick flashed him a quick, grateful smile. “Thanks, captain.” He squinted at Renshaw’s plate. At last he shrugged. “Hopefully dead. Though who knows. Remember that island where they ate live shrimp?”

“Hey, the shrimp were good, especially with that spicy sauce,” Anfinn said through a mouthful of food. What looked like an octopus arm dangled from the corner of his mouth as he grinned. “Felt a little funny wiggling its way down, that’s all.”

Jedrick sighed. “You’re both disgusting. Just shut up and let me eat before I lose my appetite,” he grumbled as he picked up one of his rice balls. Despite his irritated tone, he ate without reservation.

Gin waited until Renshaw poured sake straight into the spiny shell and took a spoon to his self-made soup. Then, assured that everyone at the table was eating, he started in on his seafood fried rice. He ate slowly, growing more and more confused with each bite, because the rice tasted familiar and strange all at once. It had to be flavored with some New World spice similar to an East Blue one, he decided. About to eat another spoonful, he paused, his attention caught by a whispered argument at the crew’s second table.

When he glanced at Haruna, his first mate wore a blank expression, only the small crease in her forehead betraying her growing exasperation. She met his gaze. Something flickered in her eyes, half a question.  

Gin tilted his head a little, listening. He wished he could see the table better, but Renshaw’s broad shoulders blocked his view.  

“Just eat it, stupid! You want another lecture about wasting food?” That was Luong, his low voice roughened by an irritated edge.

“I paid for my own dinner. Can’t see why the captain cares what I eat or don’t.” It had to be Ethelyn who answered him, sounding equally annoyed. She’d joined the crew only a few weeks ago, after they’d recovered her from the wreckage of her old ship, and was still adjusting to Gin's rules.  

Luong made an exasperated sound. Gin could picture his scowl. He snapped, “The captain doesn't care what you eat, long as you finish your meal. Look, just give it to me, _I’ll_ eat it--”

“Keep your hands off my plate,” Ethelyn said, her voice rising, and Gin nodded at Haruna. He couldn't see what she did, but Ethelyn's protest ended in a shocked little yelp.

“Either eat it or let Luong have it,” Haruna said flatly. She didn't bother keeping her voice quiet. “Unless you want to explain to the captain why you were going to throw away perfectly good food.”

In the moment following Haruna’s statement, it was easy to see who had followed Gin from Krieg’s crew and who had joined later. Krieg’s former men all paused and looked as one towards the other table, amusement gone from their faces.

“Who’s wasting food?” Renshaw demanded.

“No one,” Haruna said. Her gaze flicked towards Ethelyn.

After a second Ethelyn said in a half-resentful mutter, “Just a misunderstanding. I’m giving some of my food to Luong.”

Renshaw’s expression brightened. “Oh, well, if you’re _sharing_ \--” He reclined in his chair and grinned, opening his mouth wide and gesturing for Ethelyn to toss some food his way.

She threw a balled-up napkin instead, and the tension broke as Renshaw nearly swallowed it. He gagged and spit it out, cursing good-naturedly and throwing it back at her.

Gin leaned back in his chair. Haruna was still watching him, her dark eyes steady. He nodded again and she resumed eating. He’d take Ethelyn aside later, remind her that his rules weren't optional. Right now he was distracted by the fried rice. There was something about the taste that kept nagging at him, like an old memory only half-remembered.

“Something wrong, boss?” Anfinn asked.

Gin blinked, realizing that he was frowning. He shook his head and finished the last bite. “No. I’m going to talk to the chef.”

Anfinn relaxed and grinned; Gin complimenting the chef had become a tradition over the years. He shoveled another mouthful of seafood into his mouth. “Tell him how good the octopus was, boss,” he said, thankfully after he’d swallowed.

Gin stood, that strange but familiar spice lingering on his tongue. He licked his lips and looked over his crew. “Anyone have something to say to the chef?”

“Tell him dinner was great!” met his ears, along with Anfinn’s cheerful, “Try some sweet talk, boss! Maybe you’ll get a second helping out of it.”

“I’d like to pay my compliments to the chef,” Gin said when he got into the kitchen. He was directed to the back, where a red-faced man was scolding two much-younger cooks, who stared back with resentment in their eyes.

“I said a pinch of pepper. A pinch, not a _fistful_ ,” the chef hissed, and then waved the cooks away before he looked up at Gin. Annoyance gave way to a moment’s confusion. Then recognition hit. Gin could almost see his wanted poster reflected in the man’s eyes. The chef’s expression turned wary but polite. “May I help you, sir?”

“Just here to give my regards to the chef,” Gin said mildly. “My crew liked the meal.”

It was always interesting to see how a chef reacted to his compliments. Some looked disbelieving, as though it was beyond understanding that a pirate could be polite. Some looked gratified but unsurprised, used to such praise. This chef’s expression wavered between surprise and tentative pleasure before breaking out at last into a warm smile. “Thank you!”

“That seafood fried rice,” Gin began. He paused as the chef clapped, beaming.

“I knew that would be a hit! Vantash, didn't I say people would love the seafood fried rice?” All wariness fled, the chef leaned forward, dropping his voice to a confiding whisper. “That’s a new recipe, sir! And you’ll never believe who taught it to me!” He paused, and when Gin said nothing, announced, “ _Black Leg Sanji_ himself!”

The name was like a punch to the gut. For a second Gin couldn't breathe. He saw Sanji in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, grinning at the chef as he taught him the recipe. No wonder it had tasted familiar, he thought, and resisted the urge to touch his mouth.

His expression must have changed, because the chef blinked and took a half-step back, looking nervous again. “We’re, uh, not friends! H-he was here just the other day, came in to pay his compliments. We got to talking about recipes--”

“When?”

The chef took another step back, bumping against the counter. He’d gone pale. His gaze darted everywhere but towards Gin, as though he thought one of the other cooks would rescue him. None of them moved. “Three days ago. I think his crew left right after that--”

“Stay here,” Gin said.

Jedrick was the first one to spot him. His smile faltered as he half-rose from his seat. His hand went to his pistol, but he didn't draw it. “Problem, captain?”

“No,” Gin said. Jedrick relaxed a little, though his frown lingered. Gin’s thoughts cleared as his crew turned in their seats to look at him, wearing varying concerned and confused looks.

Three days, the chef had said. Was it possible to catch up with the Straw Hats at last and fulfill his promise to Luffy? To see Sanji and--

“Finish your food and get back to the ship,” he said. “Haruna, I want us ready to set sail as soon as possible.” His gaze landed on his navigator. “Renshaw, I need you with me.”

“But you just said we could finish our food,” Renshaw objected. He winced at Gin’s stare and scrambled upright, nearly knocking over his chair. “Uh, I mean, yes, sir.”

The chef started talking the minute Gin and Renshaw came through the doors, his hands up as though to ward them off. “Look, I don’t know what problem you have with the Straw Hats but I don’t want any part of it.”

Renshaw blinked. A half-dozen emotions flitted across his face. Then he grinned widely. He bounced a little on his heels, looking as excited as he had when Mauro had surprised him with a birthday feast. He stared between the chef and Gin. “Wait, the _Straw Hats_  were here? Are you serious?”

“Three days ago,” Gin confirmed, and watched Renshaw’s grin widen. “Think we can catch up to them?”

Renshaw’s expression sobered. “Three days is tricky, but I’ll do my damnedest, boss.” He turned to the chef, who was staring at them. “Do you know where they were headed?”

The chef squinted at them for a moment, not bothering to hide his confusion. When Renshaw leaned forward expectantly, the man flinched. Before Gin could suggest that he answer Renshaw’s question, the chef said cautiously, “Well, I mentioned the Clalk Reef, just off Brohst Island. It has a rare breed of jellyfish. Black Leg got really excited about it. Most jellyfish have no flavor when you cook them, you see, but these taste like--”

“Right, right, sounds good,” Renshaw interrupted. “But how do we get there?”

The chef launched into an explanation about the particular magnetic fields of the neighboring islands, which Renshaw seemed to understand, judging by his intent look, but which Gin only understood every other word.

Gin resisted the urge to snap at Renshaw and the chef to hurry up. Instead he prowled around the kitchen, looking at the space where Sanji had been only three days ago. Impatience nearly choked him. It was hard to think with the cool headedness he was known for, to look at things logically when the Straw Hats could be leaving Brohst Island this very moment and heading for the next island, this time without leaving an obvious trail behind them.

If they’d even gone to the island. But Gin was certain that they had. He remembered how Luffy had counted Sanji among his crew even after Sanji’s initial refusal, like there was no other cook he could ever want for his crew, and then, more distantly, the memory made hazy by the pain he'd been in at the time, how angry Luffy'd been on Gin's behalf when Krieg had mocked him. Yes, Gin thought that Luffy was exactly the type of captain who’d sail to a strange reef just because one of his nakama asked him.

“Okay,” Renshaw said at last. He stepped away from the chef. He was smiling again, that sharp-toothed grin he wore whenever the Grand Line and the New World threw its worst at him. “I’m ready, boss.”

“Good,” Gin said, something like relief touching him.

They were halfway to the door when the chef called after them. “So you’re, uh, allied with the Straw Hats? Or planning to ally with them?” When Gin looked back, scowling at the delay, the chef paled and stammered, “W-well, it’s just that the newspapers haven’t reported any new pirate alliances, and the Straw Hats getting another ally is big news, so….”  

Renshaw stopped. An offended look darkened his expression. “What, and it’s not big news that someone would ally with us?” He scowled, folding his arms against his chest. “We might not have taken out Enies Lobby or anything flashy like that, but we’re plenty strong. We--”

“Renshaw,” Gin said. Amusement warred with exasperation for a second, and then that earlier impatience drowned out all other emotion. “We don’t have time for this.”

“But, boss!” Renshaw protested. He yelped as Gin seized him by the shoulder and hauled him towards the door. Stumbling after Gin and still scowling, Renshaw waved a finger at the chef. “Look, buddy, Captain Gin knew Straw Hat Luffy and Black Leg Sanji back in the East Blue before anyone even knew who the hell they were. The captain saved their lives!”

The memory of Sanji struggling under his hands and trying to pry the gas mask off his face struck Gin like another blow. He repressed a wince. “Renshaw,” he snapped, and the chef’s face paled even more. “ _Enough_. We’re going.”

He wasn't surprised when Renshaw kept talking. “The Straw Hats would be lucky to ally with _us_!” Renshaw said loudly as the kitchen door closed on the chef’s astonished expression.

Once back in the dining room, Renshaw’s shoulder relaxed in Gin’s grip. He shot Gin a sheepish look. “Sorry, boss. Just made me mad, him acting like we’re nothing.”

“When I give you an order, you follow it,” Gin said. He waited for Renshaw’s nod. “But we can discuss it later. Now let’s go.”

“Right,” Renshaw said, and brightened, striding past Gin. Most of the crew had already headed back to the ship, but Anfinn was still seated at his table, finishing off what looked to be Renshaw’s plate. “Finn, get moving! The Straw Hats are three days ahead of us!”

“The Straw Hats?” Anfinn’s face went through similar contortions to Renshaw’s before he let out a yell of excitement that drew vaguely outraged stares from the other diners. Grinning from ear to ear, his voice hoarse from the yell, he said, “I’ll let everyone know!” Then he bolted.

The crew was affectionate, of course, always grinning at Gin and inviting him in on jokes. (Unless they were in trouble, in which case they wore their sorriest expressions.) But they saved the slaps on the shoulder and hugs for each other and not for Gin or Haruna, like there was an invisible line they didn't dare to cross. Renshaw seemed to have forgotten about the line, for in the next second his hand landed on Gin’s shoulder, warm and heavy. He grinned, his eyes bright with determination and his voice painfully earnest. “We’ll catch up to them, captain. I promise.”

Gin stared. He knew that most of the crew were ridiculously invested in seeing Gin make good on his promise to meet Straw Hat Luffy again on the Grand Line; he had even been touched watching them scour the newspapers for any mention of the Straw Hat crew. Now, looking at his navigator, he found himself bewildered by the intensity of feeling reflected in both Renshaw and Anfinn’s faces. Did they really care that much that he keep his three-year-old promise? A sudden suspicion bloomed in him. Had he failed in hiding how badly he wanted to see Sanji again?

The back of his neck warmed. No, he couldn't have been that obvious. He stepped away from Renshaw’s hand and tried to remember how to smirk. After a second he managed one. “Well, we won’t if you keep standing around making promises instead of navigating,” he said dryly. “Let’s go.”

“Yes, boss!” Renshaw said, and kept grinning all the way to the Tsuchinoko. 


	2. Gin

“Captain,” Haruna said.

The arrows on the log pose Renshaw had strapped to his wrist kept on vibrating. Staring at them made Gin’s eyes hurt, but he didn’t look away. He could feel Haruna’s presence behind him. He knew without looking that she was frowning, her arms folded against her chest. Still staring at the log pose, he asked, “What?”

Haruna took a step closer. Now he could see her from the corner of his eye, the bright colors of the tattoos that decorated her skin demanding attention. She said, “You know the saying ‘a watched pot never boils’? Well, breathing down a navigator’s neck won’t get us to Brohst Island any faster.”

Gin looked at her then. She raised an eyebrow and meet his gaze steadily. Despite the impatience that had been gnawing at his belly since they’d set off for Brohst Island, amusement touched him, the emotion faint and brief but there. He nearly smiled. “In other words, leave Renshaw alone.”

Haruna shrugged. “You said it, not me.” She paused. Her brow furrowed. “Boss, you know how the crew is about the Straw Hats. If we don’t keep an eye on everyone, they’ll collapse trying to get to the island in half the time.” Her gaze swept up and down his frame, lingering on his clothes, which were the same ones as the day before, stiff with salt and rumpled by the wind. “It’d help if you were a good example. We might even convince Renshaw to sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Renshaw muttered.

Haruna ignored him. “Meifeng and I can keep watch for a few hours.”

At the mention of Meifeng, Gin blinked.

Beyond Haruna, Meifeng stood there, watching them with dark eyes that didn’t hide her concern. Her gaze flickered between him and Renshaw. A small, worried smile darted across her face. “I was the navigator for Swinburne, boss,” she reminded him. “I haven’t forgotten how.”

Gin hadn’t even noticed her. His world had narrowed down to the log pose on Renshaw’s wrist and the ocean before them. Now that world expanded once more, encompassing the whole of his ship from bow to stern. He could feel the determination of his crew, but beneath that, he could feel exhaustion too, the majority of his nakama moving with slow, weary stubbornness as they suppressed yawns.

He scowled, angry with himself. There was a difference between asking his crew to give it their all and pushing them beyond their limits. _They’ll collapse trying to get to the island in half the time_ , Haruna had said. Gin remembered Renshaw and Anfinn’s excitement, the grins and determined cheers from all hands that had answered him when he’d ordered them to set sail for Brohst Island. He knew that she was right. They’d keep sailing until they dropped if it meant that he could fulfill his promise to Luffy.

His scowl deepened. He’d never wanted to be a captain who treated his nakama so carelessly, and yet in his urgency to catch up to the Straw Hats, he had. He looked at Renshaw, not just at the wrist bearing the log pose, but at the man himself. Despite his earlier claim, Renshaw looked unsteady and was blinking hard to stay awake. His exhaustion seemed obvious now that Gin bothered to look. “Renshaw, let Meifeng take over,” Gin said.

Renshaw looked startled, and then a little dismayed. “Boss, I’m fine, I--” A yawn betrayed him. He grimaced but continued. “I can still get us to the island.”

“Or you’ll fall asleep on your feet and send us off-course,” Gin said. He didn't relent at Renshaw’s wide-eyed denial. “We’ll both concentrate better with a couple hours of sleep. Meifeng and Haruna can handle things for a while.”

“I know they can, but….” Renshaw’s broad shoulders bowed and he scrubbed a hand over his face, stifling another yawn. This one proved infectious; much to Gin’s annoyance he found himself fighting back a yawn of his own. Renshaw said glumly, “Whatever you say, boss.”

Gin raised his voice, pitching it so that everyone would hear. “That goes for the rest of you! I don’t want the Straw Hats’ first impression of us to be a crew that doesn’t know how to handle a voyage in the New World. I want us back to regular shifts and half of you resting, understood?”

“Yes, boss!” came the answer from all corners of the ship, some sounding relieved, some sounding just as glum as Renshaw.

Haruna cleared her throat. “I’ll handle divvying up the shifts if you want to get Renshaw to his hammock before he falls over, captain.”

“I won’t--” Renshaw started to object before a jaw-popping yawn interrupted him. He blinked hard, looking half-asleep already, and Gin steadied him with a hand to his elbow. “Thanks, boss. Just let me talk to Meifeng for a minute?”

“One minute,” Gin agreed. Once Renshaw had passed over the log pose and said his piece to Meifeng, Gin looked at Haruna. “Wake us if anything happens.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Haruna said, too easily.

Gin narrowed his eyes but let it pass as Renshaw yawned again.

He got Renshaw to his hammock, ensured that the other man was secure and actually going to rest, and then went to his cabin. As he shrugged off his jacket and dropped his shoes by the side of his bed, his own exhaustion caught up with him. Still sleep eluded him when he forced himself beneath the covers. He closed his eyes, but his mind refused to settle.

He pressed his face against his pillow and huffed out an exasperated breath as his thoughts turned to Sanji. Three years were a long time, and the Grand Line changed most men. Gin knew that he’d changed as well. The Gin who had believed Don Krieg to be the strongest man in the world wouldn't recognize the Gin of today, the captain of his own crew and a survivor of nearly three years on the Grand Line.

Surely Sanji had changed too. Gin was certain that his core of decency would remain intact no matter what the Grand Line threw at him, but he must have grown physically stronger to survive the New World. The wanted poster was no help as Gin tried to picture this older Sanji. Was he taller? Had he remained lanky or had his body broadened? Somehow Gin couldn’t imagine his frame as anything but lean muscle and powerful legs. Gin, his mouth dry, uncomfortably warm beneath the sheets, shifted restlessly, remembering the dangerous flex of Sanji’s legs, the twist of his hips as he fought.

Had Sanji changed so much that Gin wouldn’t know him? But Gin couldn’t believe that. If nothing else, he’d recognize Sanji’s hands. Surely even on the Grand Line Sanji would protect them. Gin’s mind presented him with more images: one of a cigarette balanced between Sanji’s long fingers, the practiced movement as he lit a match and cupped his hand around the flame; another of the way his fingers had pushed the plate of food across the deck to Gin.

He growled into his pillow, a frustrated complaint, still too awake and beginning to suspect that he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. He’d recognize Sanji, he told himself. It was stupid to worry.

He dozed fitfully anyway. When he woke suddenly, his chest tight as though he’d been running, he swore and struggled upright. The dream was in fragments, but he’d been searching all of Brohst Island, Sanji always just beyond him, in the crowd or around a corner, impossible to reach.

“Land ho!”

Gin turned towards the cabin door, wondering if he was still dreaming.

But again Meifeng shouted, sounding triumphant, “Land ho! Brohst Island ahead!”

Gin scrambled out of bed, struggling to untangle himself from his blankets. He squinted towards the window, but couldn’t guess the time, although the sun seemed high. How long had Haruna let him fucking sleep? Before he could get halfway to the door, it opened.

Haruna blocked the doorway, leaning her weight against the frame. It must have gotten windier above deck. She’d put her hair up into a bandana, and a few wisps threatened to fall into her eyes. “There’s no rush, captain,” she said. “Meifeng says we’ve got another twenty minutes before we reach the island.” Her tone had been matter-of-fact. Now the corner of her mouth twitched. She added, “But you might want to put on some shoes. And maybe change your shirt. If we still want to make good impressions.”

Gin scowled at her, aware that she was right. His clothes were even more rumpled from his restless sleep, and salt from ocean spray still caked his sleeves. “Most first mates respect their captains, you know.”

“I do respect you,” Haruna said. Before he could react to this unexpected honesty, she continued, still with that hint of a smile at the edge of her lips. “Which is why I think you should change before we reach the dock.”

“Go away,” Gin said, though he grinned a little as he said it, pleased. He knew that she respected him, of course. Otherwise she and the rest of Swinburne's ex-crew would've been long gone. But it wasn't something they actually discussed. “Make sure the crew looks good.” He paused, remembering the crew’s excitement. “And tell them to....” He stopped again, hunting for the right word.

“Act normal and don’t ask for the Straw Hats’ autographs?” Haruna suggested dryly, and ducked out of the cabin as he snorted.

With Haruna gone, Gin frowned down at his clothes. When he touched his sleeve, salt flaked off. He grimaced. He thought Sanji’s black suit, the sharp blue of his shirt. Well, he didn’t know anything about fashion, but he could at least wear his best clothes. He changed into his red shirt, white trousers, and his second pair of boots, slightly scuffed but clean and serviceable. Then he reached for his jacket, the one the crew had given him after they'd survived their first year on the Grand Line. He paused, running his fingers over the serpents twined around the skull and crossbones stitched onto the back.

It had taken them a couple tries to decide on their flag, he remembered. Someone had suggested a skull and crossbones with Gin’s red earrings, but it had looked strange. Adding Gin’s headband hadn’t helped, and besides, Gin had left the headband behind on the Baratie. Finally Anfinn, who fancied himself an artist, had drawn a normal skull and crossbones and then two serpents coiled around it, their scales a brilliant red. A year later, he’d presented the jacket to Gin with the flustered explanation that the tailor had based it on his original sketch.  

Gin’s throat tightened as he remembered his crew’s celebration of their first anniversary on the Grand Line. They’d drunk the ship’s entire supply of grog, reveling at the fact that there’d been no one lost so far, not even during some of their riskier adventures.

“All hands on deck!” came the yell.  

His stomach lurched. For a second he felt wobbly, like some chore boy on his first voyage who was still getting his sea legs. Then he took a breath, told himself not to be ridiculous, and put the jacket on.

Out on the deck, his crew greeted him with broad grins. Most of them looked better-rested, Renshaw chief among them, all but bouncing on his heels again as he stood next to Meifeng.

“We found their ship, boss,” Meifeng said, looking pleased. She nodded past him, and he turned to see the Straw Hats’ flag. As he stared at the bright yellow painted hat, that stupid wobbly feeling returned. “There’s space next to them. Want me to dock there?”

Gin didn’t answer immediately. He studied the ship, watching for movement. There didn’t seem to be anyone on deck. Still, no one would leave their ship unguarded, especially not in the New World. He strained his senses. There were five people aboard, just out of sight.

“Yes,” he said. When he turned back to the crew, he noticed Anfinn’s eyes had a dangerous glitter, as though he was about to cry. Surprised, and then alarmed at the sympathetic tightening of his own throat, Gin frowned.  

Noticing his look, Anfinn flushed. “I think your jacket looks great, boss.”

Gin smoothed a hand over the sleeve. The tightness in his throat remained, banished only when he noticed Haruna’s slightly raised eyebrow and the small twitch of her lips. He coughed and raised his voice. “Well, enough staring! Everyone to their stations.” He nodded towards Meifeng. “Meifeng, bring us to port.”

“Yes, boss!”

Excitement thickened the air, but the crew knew their tasks. Within minutes the ship was docked and the anchor weighed. Gin watched the Straw Hats’ ship, still trying to catch sight of anyone.

Then a man emerged from below deck. Well, it was shaped like a man, broad-shouldered with impossibly enormous arms. The sunlight reflected off that metallic nose as Kye said, amazement in his voice, “That must be the cyborg!” before someone shushed him. As though Kye’s quiet exclamation had reached him, that strange face turned towards the Tsuchinoko.

Gin cleared his throat. He’d seen the newspaper articles and wanted poster, of course, and heard the rumors, but it was hard to believe Cyborg Franky was a human who’d made these changes to himself, and not some devil fruit user weirdly altered by the fruit. “Raise the signal flags,” he said, and Renshaw did.

Franky stood motionless for a long moment. Then he raised his hand in acknowledgement and disappeared below deck again.

Gin’s chest tightened. He wondered if Sanji and Luffy were on board, or if they were two of the Straw Hats ashore. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but didn’t succeed, judging by the way Haruna looked at him.

More people emerged from below deck. First Cyborg Franky again, gesturing towards the Tsuchinoko. Then an orange-haired woman who must be Nami. She frowned towards Gin’s ship, her head tilted up as she studied their flag. Next Soul King Brook emerged. A repressed murmur moved through the Tsuchinoko at the sight of him, for the devil fruit user towered even over Franky. Not even his wanted poster had prepared them for the sight of a living skeleton.  

Then Gin caught sight of that familiar hat and he forgot everything else.


	3. Gin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow means I actually got a four-day weekend, so I thought I'd post this chapter a little early. Hope you enjoy the reunion!
> 
> Thanks goes out to cal for helping me with Luffy's dialogue and jokes.

Luffy stared towards the Tsuchinoko, his hands on his hips. The hat hid his expression and made it impossible to read. Then his head whipped forward and kept going, his neck stretching to an impossible length as Gin's crew murmured in amazement. A few seconds later, Luffy’s face hovered before Gin.

Luffy’s eyes met his, and Gin thought he saw recognition in that interested gaze. He started to smile at Luffy, but before he could speak, Luffy’s head whipped back to his shoulders like a rubber-band snapping back to its original size. 

Gin’s stomach twisted, sudden unease tightening his chest. He thought that Luffy had recognized him, but maybe he hadn't. Gin had worried about Sanji not knowing him, but he hadn't considered that Luffy wouldn't. He kept the nervousness of his face and waited. Even if Luffy didn't know him by sight, he hadn't seemed hostile. Gin could explain. He just had to be patient. 

Luffy took one step back, and then a second one. Then he leaped across to the Tsuchinoko’s deck. His arms and legs stretched to make the jump, and Gin heard his crew sigh in wonder again. Even three years on the Grand Line hadn't diminished his crew's fascination whenever they saw devil fruit powers in action. Skidding to a halt in front of Gin, Luffy clutched his hat and grinned at him, that same big smile Gin remembered. “Grog, right? Or was it brandy? Or whiskey...?”

Gin blinked at this strange greeting. He exchanged a look with Haruna, but she seemed equally confused. “What?”

Luffy’s grin twisted into a frown, though it didn't seem directed at Gin, but instead at himself. He turned and hollered at his crew. “Oi! Grog, brandy, whiskey! What else?”

“Beer!” Franky shouted back after a moment’s thought. “But cola is better!”

Luffy laughed. “Don’t let Zoro hear you say that!” He turned back to Gin. His brow wrinkled, an air of confused determination surrounding him. He seemed to be thinking hard. “So not brandy or grog--”

Nami vaulted over to the Tsuchinoko, leaping first to the pier and then up to the ship. Gin watched in astonishment as she punched Luffy in the back of the head, hard enough to send her captain to his knees.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Luffy complained, clutching at his head. He raised watering eyes towards her. Rather than angry, he looked only confused and a bit put-out, his lower lip jutted forward in a pout. “Oi, Nami, what was that for?”

Nami’s face was colorless, her mouth set in a thin, unsmiling line. Her hands remained fists as she hissed, “That’s Gin of the Crimson Serpents Pirates! How the hell do you know these guys?”

“Oh, you know Gin, Nami! He--” Luffy stopped, his frown deepening. Then, abruptly, he was all smiles again, laughing heartily. “Oh, right! You never met Gin. Whoops!” He turned back to Gin, beaming. “Well, gin, Gin! I was close, right?”

“Gin and gin don’t even sound the same!” Nami objected crossly, though some of her anger had been replaced by bewilderment. She glanced between them, wary curiosity lighting her eyes. “How did you two meet?”

Luffy ignored her question, still grinning at Gin. “Gin, this is Nami. She’s my navigator, but you two didn't meet before. She was stealing our ship and running off at the time.” The shocked reaction of Gin’s crew was half-lost beneath another burst of Luffy’s loud laughter, like it was an old joke.

Luffy turned back towards Nami and explained cheerfully, ignoring the way Gin's crew was staring baffled by this strange introduction and lighthearted mention of betrayal, “Nami, meet Gin. He tried to kill me and Sanji back when I was a chore boy on the Baratie.” Nami’s expression tightened, her body tensing as though she wanted to grab Luffy and leap back to their ship. Luffy laughed again and shook his head. “But then he saved us from poison gas and turned out not to be such a jerk!”

Then Luffy’s expression darkened. The air around him seemed to spark with dangerous energy. Tipping his hat back and beginning to roll up his sleeves, he looked around. “That don guy here? I still owe him a couple punches for what he did to the Baratie. And for that dirty trick with the net.”

“No,” Gin said, finding his voice at last. He probably should have been angry or offended that Luffy hadn't remembered his name, but it was hard to feel anything more than amusement and a tinge of relief that Luffy remembered him at all. Three years were a long time, after all, and Luffy had faced enemies far worse than Don Krieg of the East Blue. He cleared his throat, aware that all eyes were on him. “This is my ship, the Tsuchinoko. And my crew.” Without looking, he knew that everyone had straightened and were trying to look as impressive as possible. Even Haruna smiled, though it was less friendly and more of a challenging baring of her teeth.

“Good!” Luffy was back to beaming, his mood shifting so quickly that it almost gave Gin whiplash. Luffy nodded towards the rest of the crew. “Nice to meet you! Gin, Sanji and everyone else are in town, but he'll be back soon.”

Gin’s smile was involuntary, tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ignoring Haruna’s small smirk, he said, “Oh, good. We heard there were some interesting jellyfish around this island. That why you’re here?”

“Yep! And Sanji promised me the first bowl. It takes another two days to be ready, though.” Luffy sighed happily, looking dreamy-eyed for a moment, and Gin felt a pang of envy that Luffy got to eat Sanji’s cooking every day. Then Luffy laughed and clapped him on the arm, a gesture that made Gin repress a startled jump. Oblivious to Gin’s surprise, Luffy said, still laughing, “After a year, I figured that poison had killed you after all! Glad it didn’t!”

Color had slowly returned to Nami’s face, color along with a look of growing exasperation. Now she stared between her captain and Gin. Gin suspected that she was grinding her teeth. She took a deep breath, and then another. “You should have told me that you knew him, Luffy. I would've told you and Sanji when he was in the papers--”

“In the papers? You’ve got a bounty too?” Luffy said, his eyes lighting up. He rubbed at his chin and said confidingly, like it was a secret rather than a well-known fact, “I've got a pretty big one.”

Amused, Gin grinned. “Well, it’s not as big as yours, but it’s respectable,” he said mildly, and heard Haruna snort.

Luffy laughed again, that burst of unchecked, delighted sound that Gin remembered. He tipped his hat further back and grinned at the crew. Squinting at them, he said, “Hey, some of you were from that don guy’s crew, right?” When most glanced at Gin and then slowly nodded yes, Luffy beamed. “Gin’s the better captain, right? I bet he doesn't poison his nakama!”

“Course he’s better,” someone said. Renshaw, probably. Gin thought that he recognized that indignant tone from when Renshaw had told that cook that the Straw Hats would be lucky to ally with them.

When Gin looked at the faces of his crew, he realized that most of them were either confused, or worse, offended on his behalf, bristling a little and frowning at Luffy. His throat tightened like it had at Anfinn’s emotional compliment, touched by the crew’s reaction. Still, he knew that Luffy hadn't intended any insult. It had been a compliment, in a backhanded sort of way.

“No, no poisoning,” Gin said, raising his voice a little so that everyone would hear the sarcastic edge to his tone. “We have other punishments instead. Speaking of punishments... Do you always let your nakama punch you?”

Luffy laughed. He rubbed at the spot where Nami had hit him. “Only when I deserve it.” Then his face lit up. He bounded over to the side of the ship and leaned over the railing.

A second later, Gin sensed it too: people approaching the pier that separated the Straw Hats’ ship and the Tsuchinoko. Anticipation dizzied him. There was that stupid wobbly feeling again. He went to the railing, half-bracing himself against it until the unbalanced feeling passed. There were four people walking down the pier towards the ships, but Gin only had eyes for the one striding ahead of the others, his arms full of grocery bags.

The sunlight made Sanji’s hair glint gold, and Gin wanted to lean over the railing and look his fill. He couldn’t move. He was rooted in place, as though seeing Sanji again had turned him to stone. He could only stare as Luffy waved at the group and yelled, “Oi, Sanji! Guess who’s not dead?”  

“What the hell kind of crap question is that, Luffy?” Sanji yelled back. He headed towards the Tsuchinoko, shaking his head. “How would I--”

His eyes met Gin’s. He stopped so abruptly that his crewmates nearly ran into him, but he didn't seem to notice. Gin was close enough to see shock wipe Sanji’s expression clean. Then a smile spread across his features, so bright that he seemed to glow more than the sun.

It was the same brilliant smile Gin remembered from his first departure from the Baratie, before he had brought Don Krieg and the survivors of the armada down upon the restaurant. He smiled helplessly back, his throat too tight for words, and managed to raise his hand in hello.

“Gin!” Sanji kept grinning from ear to ear. “Usopp, take these back to Sunny. And be careful with the fruit.” He dumped his bags into his companion’s arms, ignoring the other man’s protest.

Then Sanji turned. His knee bent, and then he leaped gracefully onto the deck. He was close enough to touch, though Gin was still frozen in place. He’d grown a few inches, Gin thought. And his hair was different, thicker maybe, or just more tousled.

Gin’s fingers itched to smooth it. He realized that he still had his hand raised, and dropped it to his side, feeling stupid. He tried to think of something to say, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He kept smiling instead, likely looking ridiculous but unable to care, not even with Haruna probably smirking behind him.

At least Sanji was smiling just as much, delight obvious on his face. Then his eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening. “How’re the lungs?” It would've been a casual question, if not for the way Sanji watched him, waiting for an answer.

Gin warmed, stupidly pleased by Sanji’s concern. He found his voice at last. “Fine.” He looked Sanji over, a little distracted by his bare calves and the bright colors of his shirt, covered in purple and yellow flowers. His gaze lingered on Sanji’s chest. “How’re the ribs?”

That earned him a laugh. Sanji waved a hand, as though brushing off the question. His teeth flashed very white as he said, “Like you and that bastard did any real damage.”

Gin hadn't been nervous introducing his crew to Luffy, but now he found his throat dry and his chest tight. His stomach roiled as he cleared his throat. “Good. Sanji--” His voice caught on the name, but he swallowed and managed to keep going. “Sanji, I want you to meet my crew.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow. “Your crew,” he repeated, half a question.

Pride replaced some of his nervousness. “ _My_ crew,” Gin said. He smoothed a hand over his jacket. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow and grin. “You haven’t heard of the Crimson Serpents? We might not be as famous as you Straw Hats, but we’re not nobodies.”  

“That’s partly my fault,” Nami said.

Gin didn’t quite jump, but it was a near thing. He’d half-forgotten that Luffy and Nami and the rest of his crew were standing there, watching them.

When he looked at her, the Straw Hats’ navigator had one fist on her hip and a strange look on her face. Her gaze flickered between Gin and Sanji. “Luffy just explained how you met on the Baratie, but I didn't realize you knew Captain Gin until now,” she said. She directed an exasperated look at Luffy, who sidled out of arm's reach as though worried he'd earned another punch. “I would've mentioned his crew in my weekly news reports if I had.”

Sanji stepped past Gin, and Gin was struck by his expression. It was both apologetic and besotted. Nothing of his earlier grin or cockiness remained. He’d even clasped his hands in front of him, as though to beg her forgiveness. When Sanji spoke, it was in a weird, wheedling tone that didn't suit him at all. “Nami, don’t apologize! It was our fault for not telling you! Please, forgive me?”

Baffled, Gin stared as Nami said, “Well, it all worked out,” and Sanji’s shoulders actually sagged in relief. That besotted look remained, turning Sanji’s face strange and unfamiliar. Gin might have thought Sanji and Nami were together, except that Nami looked at him with the faint air of someone indulging silliness.

Gin’s stomach sank as Sanji looked at his crew and his expression changed again. He’d been too hopeful, before. Now, looking at Sanji’s flirtatious and fawning smile, he knew that he’d seen something in Sanji’s earlier grins that hadn't been there.

Sanji made a showy bow and smiled at Haruna, who looked unimpressed as she darted a questioning look in Gin’s direction. He didn't have time to hide behind a mask. Whatever she saw in his features turned her expression wooden. 

By the time Sanji turned back to him, Gin had gotten his expression under control. He even managed a faint smirk as Sanji said, “Gin, I don’t remember Krieg having such lovely ladies on his ship! Please introduce me.”

Gin's throat was dry, his stomach soured by dismay, but he snorted. “Just the ladies, or the rest of the crew as well?” he asked, and was pleased when his voice came out steady and sarcastic. Before Sanji could answer, Gin nodded towards his crew, who were watching the exchange with varying looks of confusion or interest, and then gestured at Haruna. She stepped forward, expressionless. “Sanji, meet Haruna, my first mate.”

Gin watched, incredulity edging out some of his disappointment, as Sanji went down on one knee, a rose appearing in his hand as though by magic. Sanji smiled up at Haruna and offered her the flower. “Of course such a fine example of womanhood would be your first mate! Please accept this humble gift.”

Haruna didn't answer at first, her look still wooden. When she looked over Sanji’s head towards Gin, the slightly contemptuous curl to her mouth asked a question. _Can I hit him?_ At Gin’s narrowed eyes, she sighed and said, without enthusiasm, “Hello.” She made no attempt to take the rose.

Undeterred, Sanji turned an expectant smile towards Meifeng.

She flushed and took a step back, bumping into Anfinn, who looked oddly pale. Meifeng looked over at Gin as well, though there was no question in her face of whether she could hit Sanji, just a vaguely confused look.

“Sanji, this is Meifeng. She’s one of our navigators.” He added, dryly, before Sanji could offer the rose, “She’s allergic to flowers.”

As the rose disappeared to wherever it had been before, Gin took a deep breath. The sharp disappointment faded to a dulled ache. He could think clearly again. His hopes had exceeded reality. He was a strategist, he could tell when he’d misread a situation. At least Sanji had been genuinely pleased to see him. That wide smile was worth some disappointment.

“And this is Ethelyn, our musician,” he said, and was only slightly surprised when Sanji clasped a hand to his chest and said, “Of course! That explains the music I heard the instant I set eyes upon you.”

Ethelyn, for her part, looked amused. The faint scar on her cheek deepened briefly. Despite his personal discouragement, Gin was glad to see the humorous gleam in her eyes. She didn't smile often. Ethelyn tilted her head and looked at Sanji for a second. Then she said, matter-of-fact, “You might want to get your ears checked.”

“Sanji!” Luffy took advantage of the fact that Sanji was still kneeling and leaped onto his back, tousling his hair as Sanji swore. Luffy was beaming. He patted Sanji’s head, ignoring the low string of curses Sanji directed at him. “Oi, Sanji, this deserves a party, right? A feast! We’re gonna have a feast for Gin and his crew! With lots and lots of meat!”

The swearing stopped. “The jellyfish need another two days of preparation, so I can’t serve that,” Sanji said, pursing his lips, and stood. He seemed momentarily resigned to Luffy clinging to him. He looked thoughtful; he was mentally calculating something, probably the supplies needed for a party. “But we just bought most of the supplies for the voyage, so I should have enough. I might need someone to run back to the market and buy a few things.”

Gin’s mouth watered a little at the thought of Sanji's cooking. He swallowed. “You can use some of our food as well. And Mauro--” He looked around, but the cook was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, and then dismissed it. He’d find Mauro later. “Not really fair, though, asking for you to cook for almost thirty people.”

Sanji laughed. Now that he was focused on cooking and not on Haruna and the other women, his old confidence returned. He shook Luffy off with practiced ease and shrugged. “I can handle it.”

“No, I’ll help you.” The offer escaped his lips without forethought, and Gin immediately wanted to bite back the words. He’d learned a little from Mauro and the other cooks he’d talked to throughout the Grand Line, but he’d look like an idiot next to Sanji in the kitchen. Heat rose to his face before he forced the warmth away. “If you need some extra hands to cut the vegetables or something.”

Sanji looked surprised and then pleased, another warm grin spreading across his face. “Really? It’d be nice to have some help in the kitchen.”

“I can help too,” Luffy offered, and Sanji's expression changed to a scowl.

“Fuck no, you’ll eat everything. Or chop your fingers off. Stay the hell out of my kitchen.”   

Luffy laughed, slapping his knee as though Sanji had made a joke rather than insulted him. “You’re probably right!”

Gin turned to Haruna. “Find wherever Mauro is and get him to write up the list of our stores and bring it over. Sanji can tell him what he needs.”

“Food,” Luffy singsonged happily, slinging an arm across Nami’s shoulders. Apparently he felt that the danger of being punched had passed. He grinned at Gin. “Tell your cook to bring over all your meat!”

“We’re not taking _all_  of their meat,” Sanji said. He frowned and shook his head. “Gin, ignore him. I have plenty of meat. Or I can get more at the market.”

Luffy’s face fell. “But...meat…. You can never have enough meat, Sanji!”

“I said no,” Sanji snapped.

As Sanji and Luffy glowered at each other, Gin watched Sanji. There was a slight flush on his face, his teeth bared in a scowl. He waved his hands at Luffy, the cuffs of his shirt shifting at the gesture and exposing his pale, strong arms and wrists.

Gin looked away hastily. He’d figure out how to squash these feelings. He had to. He’d seen how Sanji had looked at the women on his crew. The difference between those fawning, starry-eyed looks and the way he grinned at Gin were like night and day. Gin had been blinded by hope, that was all. Sanji had a way of unmooring him from his calm, calculated way of thinking, of stirring up emotions like gratitude and tenderness until he couldn't think clearly. But this seemed plain enough. Sanji was interested in women.

Still, when Gin thought of Sanji's bright smile, how it had spread from ear to ear at the sight of him, he knew that Sanji's grin hadn't been insincere. Sanji liked him, even if not in all the ways he wanted. Gin might have hoped for more, but to spend time with Sanji, to eat his cooking and see him grin again, to be able to catch up on the past three years, it was good. It was more than good. Gin wondered if there was any way to get a thank-you to the cook who’d told him about Sanji and the jellyfish and brought about their reunion.

“Excited about the feast?” Sanji's voice was warm and amused.

Gin realized that he was smiling. He shrugged, repressing the heat that wanted to flood his face again. “Who wouldn't be? That was still the best fried rice I've ever had. You’re planning on making some for the feast, right?”

“Of course,” Sanji said, grinning.

Luffy narrowed his eyes. “Oi!" he said indignantly. "So Gin asks for fried rice and gets it, but you won’t get me more meat?!" He stomped his foot. "No fair having favorites, Sanji! I’m your captain, _I’m_  your favorite!”

Sanji shook his head, still amused. “You’re not my favorite, Luffy. That’s Nami and Robin.” He laughed at Luffy’s growl and patted him on the shoulder as Luffy pouted. “You still get the first bowl of my special jellyfish recipe, though.”

Luffy’s scowl vanished. “Oh, right. Hear that, Nami? _I_ get the first bowl!”

“That’s nice,” Nami said vaguely. “But we can’t fit thirty people in the dining room. Some people will have to eat out on the deck--”

Looking unconcerned, Luffy shrugged. “We’ll squeeze them in somehow. Wouldn't be good hosts if we made half of our guests eat outside!” As Nami opened her mouth, presumably to protest, he clutched his hat and performed the same incredible leap from before. He landed on his deck and turned, cupping his hands around his mouth and hollering, “Now come on, everybody wants food! _Food!_ ”  

Nami sighed, shaking her head. “We couldn't fit everyone even if people sat in each other’s laps….” She held up a finger as Sanji’s expression brightened. “No.”

“We don’t mind being out on the deck,” Haruna said. She folded her arms and offered Nami a small smile. “The party doesn't have to be fancy. Long as there’s grog and good food, we’ll have fun.”

“But you’re our guests,” Nami said, a small crease in her brow. She looked thoughtful. “We do have a nice area by the tangerine trees, but everyone would have to be careful.” A hint of steel hardened her next words, and her expression turned so fierce that if Luffy had been there, Gin suspected that he would have sidled out of her reach again. “No one touches the trees.”  

Haruna raised an eyebrow. “We won’t touch them,” she agreed. Then, much to Gin’s dismay, she really did smile, that flash of teeth and quirk of her lips that was half-challenge and, if a person knew her (and Gin did), half-flirtation. “And if anyone goes near them, I’ll handle it.”

The crease smoothed from Nami’s forehead as she smiled back. “Thank you.”

Gin almost groaned, mostly in disbelief. He hadn't thought Haruna would flirt with one of the Straw Hats. Then again, Nami _was_ her type. Haruna liked strong, confident women, and Nami had handled Luffy and Sanji with ease.

Still, he stared at Haruna until she glanced his way. Then he frowned at her.

The corner of Haruna’s mouth tucked in, the way she did when she was struggling to control her expression. She managed to look both sympathetic and unapologetic at the same time. _Sorry if your thing with the cook isn't working out, but you can’t blame me for trying,_  her half-smile seemed to say. Then she turned back to Nami.

Gin considered taking her aside later, and then dismissed the thought. Haruna knew her own mind, and she knew the risks involved. Gin didn't think anything would come of it, but if she wanted to flirt, let her. When he turned, Sanji was in front of Meifeng again, who looked slightly alarmed by whatever he was saying. Gin caught the tail end of Sanji's latest speech. Despite his disappointment, he couldn't help but be slightly amused by the nonsense Sanji spouted. Did he really think that would work?

“--the stars must have aligned, for it’s surely fate that led your ship to Brohst Island and allowed us to meet!”

Gin stepped between Sanji and Meifeng. “Fate, no. That chef you taught your fried rice recipe to, yeah,” he said as Meifeng smiled gratefully at him and then darted away. “He said you were excited about those jellyfish. We didn't have anywhere else to be, so we figured we’d check out the island.” He ignored the faint snort from Haruna at this half-truth. 

Sanji grinned, his smile lighting up his face. “Well, I only caught enough for my nakama, but if you want to go jellyfish hunting with me tomorrow, I can show your cook how to make it. The dish takes three days of preparation to get the full flavor.” His enthusiasm grew. “Most jellyfish have very little taste if any, but when you prepare Clalk jellyfish, they have this amazing flavor--”

“SANJI! FOOD!” came the bellow from the Straw Hats’ ship, Luffy’s impatience obvious.

Sanji snorted, managing to look annoyed and fond all at once. “Sorry about my crap-captain,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Come on. I haven’t cooked for more than my crew in a while. This’ll be fun.” His knee bent, and he leaped effortlessly from one ship to the other.

Gin smiled, just watching for a moment. The sunlight caught on Sanji’s hair as he turned and waved at Gin. He lifted his hand in answer, his disappointment ebbing away to nearly nothing, just a small ache in his chest. He tucked away all those old, absurd daydreams. Sanji was here and happy to see him. He could live with that. 

"Gin!" Sanji yelled. "Change your mind about chopping those vegetables?"

Gin laughed. "Hey, I make a promise, I keep it," he called, and jumped. 


	4. Gin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your amazing comments! I hope you enjoy this update. :)

The kitchen and dining room looked like something out of an actual restaurant. It wouldn't fit both his crew and Luffy’s by any means, but it was the largest kitchen and dining room Gin had ever seen on a ship.

His amazement must have shown on his face, because Sanji grinned. Running his hand over the bar’s polished stone surface, he said, “Impressive, right?”

“Yeah,” Gin agreed, looking around. There was even a couch. He smiled a little, picturing his carpenter’s reaction. “Kye’s gonna faint when he sees this.”

“Well, if he does, the sick bay’s right through there,” Sanji said. His grin widened. He flicked his fingers towards one of the doors and then began to sort through the grocery bags. A pile of vegetables quickly formed on the counter. “So we’ll wash and chop the vegetables first. I want to get the pottage going as soon as possible, since we’ll need at least four or five gallons.” He hummed thoughtfully to himself, squinting at his fridge. “As for the rest of it…. We have a swordfish in the aquarium, but I’ll wake Mosshead up and see if he can catch one or two more.” He flashed Gin a smile. “I’m sure your nakama eat as much as mine.”

Gin snorted, remembering when they’d found a buffet restaurant. All you can eat, they’d been told. The owner had chased them out after thirty minutes.

Sanji drummed his fingers against the counter-top. “So fried rice as the appetizer, pottage with beef for the soup, grilled swordfish for the seafood…. I’ll need some more pork tenderloin for the meat course, but I can send Usopp back to the market and do a quick dry rub with some New World spices I've been meaning to try. Then for dessert, let’s see....”

Gin blinked. He wasn't sure what he’d been expecting. Sanji and Luffy had talked about a feast, but Gin hadn't considered how much food that would mean. He frowned. “That’s an awful lot of work. We don’t need anything fancy. You don’t have to--” He stopped. Sanji was smiling at him. “What?”

“It’s been a while since I cooked for anyone but my nakama, but thirty people is nothing compared to dinner service when I was a line-cook at the Baratie.” Sanji's grin broadened. “In fact, this will probably be easier with you helping me instead of those crap-cooks.”

Gin flushed at the compliment, even if he thought that Sanji was exaggerating. He remembered how Sanji had treated his fellow cooks during the fight for the Baratie, mixing insults with gruff displays of camaraderie, and suspected that they weren't as useless as Sanji claimed. Then he thought of something sure to make Sanji smile even more. 

“I've been keeping an ear out for any word about the Baratie. Figured that some people might've visited it before heading to the Grand Line.”

Sanji's face lit up. “Really? Did you meet any customers?” When Gin nodded, Sanji leaned against the counter. His expression turned intent, and Gin flushed a little more at Sanji's focused look. “What’d they say? Those crap-cooks are probably suffering without me.”

“Actually, the last guy I talked to said the Baratie was expanding, putting in some extra floors. Even building two sister ships. A dessert one and, uh--” Gin tried to remember, though Sanji's expectant face was distracting. “A teppanyaki one.”

Sanji snorted. He stubbed his cigarette out in a tray, and then lit a fresh cigarette. Smoke trickled from the corner of his mouth and half-hid his smirk as he muttered, “Probably Carne and Patty. Desserts and teppanyaki are the only things those crap-cooks are good at. Maybe they’ll poison less customers now.” He was trying not to smile, and failing. “Sounds like business is booming.”

It took Gin a second to respond, distracted by the way Sanji's lips curled around the cigarette. He cleared his throat and aimed for teasing. “Yeah, well, when you can brag that Black Leg Sanji worked at your restaurant--”

“They brag about me?” Sanji said quickly. If Gin had thought he was smiling before, that was nothing compared to now. His cheeks rounded and flushed with delight. Then he shrugged, trying to tamp down on his smile. He took another drag of his cigarette. “Well, of course they do. Bet the crap-geezer cries when he's talking about me.”

Gin, about to tell him about the teppanyaki ship’s homage to his terrible wanted poster, paused, studying Sanji's pleased grin. Somehow he didn't think Sanji would find it funny. “The guy didn't mention that,” he said instead. “But they all seem proud of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Sanji said, still grinning. He might've said more, except the door opened and Luffy burst in.

Luffy skidded to a stop, his expectant grin fading to a betrayed look as he looked around and saw only bags of groceries, half of them untouched, and the small piles of vegetables. He turned an accusing glare on Sanji. “Oi, you’re just talking! Where’s the food?!”

Sanji glared back. “You’ll get your damn food with everyone else. Go away.” When Luffy didn't move, crossing his arms and glowering, Sanji lashed out, his foot a blur. The kick caught Luffy squarely in the face and Luffy, yelping in outrage, somersaulted out the door. “And stay out until the food’s ready!” Sanji shouted after him.

The door slammed shut behind Luffy. For a second it was quiet as Sanji glared at the door, agitated puffs of smoke escaping his lips. Then his expression shifted to a calmer look. He shook his head and said, as though he hadn't just kicked his own captain in the face, “So we'll wash and dice the vegetables first, get the pottage going.”

Gin looked at him, marveling a little. It was one thing to remember how strong Sanji had been even with at least half his ribs broken by Pearl's blows and Gin’s tonfa and to know he must have gotten much stronger since then, and quite another thing to see him in action even briefly, kicking Straw Hat Luffy several feet like it was nothing.

“You kick him in the face a lot, or was that just a special show?”

Sanji grinned. “It’s a bad habit of mine. But Luffy can handle it. Plus, it’s the only damn way to make sure he doesn't eat all the fucking meat before the party starts.” He moved over to the sink and began washing his hands as he added, “How do tarts sound for dessert? I've got some plums, and then I could do this brandy-soaked tart with apricots and raisins….”

“Dessert with alcohol? Sounds great,” Gin said, smiling. “You’re gonna spoil my nakama.” He waited until Sanji moved over to the grocery bags before he took Sanji's place at the sink, rolling up his sleeves and scrubbing at his hands with the hot, soapy water until his skin was red and he’d gotten all the dirt out from under his fingernails. He turned as Sanji set two cutting boards on the counter.

“Let’s get the carrots and leeks cleaned and chopped first,” Sanji said. “For the soup, I’m thinking carrots, leeks, turnips, sorrel, cabbage, and then some oats and beef.”

“Sounds good.” Gin didn't admit that he recognized only half of the ingredients. He wondered what the hell sorrel was. At least washing the vegetables wasn't too hard. It was only after Sanji passed him a knife that he stared down at his chopping board and the carrots and started to get nervous. He’d helped Mauro out in the kitchen before, and Mauro hadn't said anything bad about his chopping skills. But that was Mauro, who probably wouldn't tell him he was doing anything wrong unless he was about to lose a finger. This was _Sanji_  standing next to him. Gin was all too aware that if he leaned just a little to the left their elbows would touch.

Sanji chopped the leeks, his knife a blur as he worked. When Gin raised his eyes to Sanji's face, Sanji's expression was focused, his lips tight around the cigarette. Already there was a small pile of chopped leeks next to him.

Gin swallowed, his throat dry, and began to cut the carrots about the same size as the leeks. He’d chopped about three or four of them before he noticed Sanji's knife slowing down. He glanced at Sanji again. He couldn't figure out his expression, but Sanji was definitely watching Gin’s hands. Self-conscious, Gin paused and scratched at his jaw. “Something wrong?”

Sanji shook his head. “No.” He paused to stub out his cigarette and light another one. “I know a trick if you want to cut those carrots faster, though.” A new smile flashed across his face, this one half a challenge. “Unless you don’t take directions anymore, _Captain_ Gin….”  

Despite the teasing tone, Sanji looked pleased at the thought of Gin captaining his own ship, and Gin forced down another blush. He shrugged. “Directions? No. Advice? Sure. I listen to people. Otherwise Haruna would've staged a mutiny ages ago.”

His stomach dropped as Sanji's expression lit up with a ridiculous, giddy grin at Haruna's name. Sighing dreamily, Sanji blew out a ring of smoke; Gin could've sworn that it was heart-shaped. Propping his chin in one hand, he nudged at Gin with his other elbow. “Right, your first mate! And Ethelyn and Meifeng….” He sighed again. “Where did you find three such beautiful ladies?”

“Hands off my crew.” The demand escaped Gin’s mouth unplanned. Still, he stared steadily back, not flinching under Sanji's startled look. Gin had accepted that Sanji liked women. That didn't mean he had to like the idea of Sanji flirting with his crew.

A puzzled crease appeared between Sanji's eyes. “Don’t be greedy, Gin.” Then he paused, and a grin spread across his face. Eyeing Gin speculatively, he said, “Unless you’re already involved with one of them…. Maybe Meifeng? Gin, you--”

Gin barked out a disbelieving laugh. At Sanji's surprised look, he swallowed down another laugh. He shook his head. Well, he thought, amused and relieved all at once, at least he hadn't been obvious out on the deck. Aware that Sanji was still staring at him, he said, “I don’t fuck my crew,” intending to leave it at that.

He wasn't expecting Sanji to blush, but Sanji did, scowling at him and looking offended. “Don’t be vulgar, Gin. We’re talking about _ladies_.”

Gin stared, but Sanji seemed serious, the flush spreading from Sanji's face to even the tips of his ears. Gin debated asking if Meifeng disemboweling that bounty hunter two weeks ago was ladylike, and decided against it. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if Sanji had always been weird about women, or if this was a new thing.

“Right,” he said slowly. “Well, I’m the captain. Wouldn't be right.”

Sanji blinked. Understanding lit his eyes and the angry flush faded. He nodded. “Oh, of course. You wouldn't want to show favoritism and hurt the other women’s feelings.” He shook his head, smiling sympathetically. “Shit, what a sacrifice.”

“Sure,” Gin said, very dryly, but Sanji didn't notice his tone. He resisted the urge to rub his forehead, where a headache was beginning between his eyes. He needed to change the subject. “Weren't you going to show me a faster way to cut the carrots?”

Sanji blinked. He glanced down at the chopping boards and the vegetables as though he’d forgotten they were there. Then he laughed, shaking his head again. “Right. Less talking, more cooking, or else Luffy will get _really_ pissed off.”

Gin hadn't considered how Sanji would demonstrate. That was a miscalculation. A second later, Sanji stepped behind him, close enough that Gin could feel Sanji's warm breath against his nape, tickling the short hairs there. Cigarette smoke touched the side of Gin’s face and overwhelmed his senses. He grew half-dizzy. His free hand clutched at the edge of the counter as he struggled against the eager hunger that welled in him at Sanji's nearness.

Then Sanji touched his wrist. Gin’s chest tightened. He kept his expression fixed in what he hoped was a look of concentration, even if all he could concentrate on was the light pressure of Sanji's hand adjusting his grip on the knife.

When he looked down, he was struck by how strange their hands looked against each other’s. Sanji's hand was relatively unmarked, aside from a small burn on the knuckle of his thumb and the smooth calluses that came from handling knives. Next to that hand, Gin’s looked battered. There were a dozen small scars littering his skin, and the knuckles of his ring and little fingers were slightly larger than the rest from being broken too many times during his training with the tonfa.

“Your grip and angle just need some work,” Sanji said, the words warm against Gin’s ear.

Gin choked back a laugh and made a vague sound of agreement instead. He tried to focus. It was nearly impossible, when Sanji stood so close and everything in Gin wanted to turn to him and-- He took a deep breath. He thought of how Sanji had looked at Haruna as he’d knelt before her on the deck, his face shining with admiration. The need coiled low in his stomach didn't ease, but his thoughts calmed when presented with the cold fact that Sanji didn't desire him. He could think clearly again.

When he trusted his voice, he said, “Like this? Doesn't feel very different.”

Sanji touched his elbow, and Gin obeyed the light pressure, raising his elbow a little. “Now give it a try,” Sanji said. He took a step back, his hand dropping from Gin’s arm, and Gin told himself that he was glad for the distance. It made it easier to think.

Gin cut the next carrot slowly at first, until he was sure that he could keep up the new angle and grip. Then he gradually increased his speed. His knife-work was nowhere near the speed of Sanji's, but he chopped faster than before, feeling the difference in the balance of the knife. He blinked down at the cutting board. “Huh. This way there’s less resistance, right?”

“Exactly,” Sanji said. “I should've known you’d be a quick study.” When Gin looked at him, Sanji grinned back, his smile warm and pleased.

Heat prickled under Gin’s skin. He knew he was blushing. He was glad that Haruna wasn't there; he suspected that she’d laugh at the wide, helpless grin that spread across his face at Sanji's compliment. He shrugged, ducking his head and muttering, “Well, I've got a good teacher.”

“That helps,” Sanji agreed with another grin, accepting the praise as his due. He nodded towards the door. “I’m going to go wake up that shitty swordsman and tell him to make himself useful. Think you can handle things here for a couple minutes?”

Gin looked at the pile of vegetables that still needed to be chopped. The heat faded from his face but lingered in his chest, warmed by the thought that Sanji trusted him alone in his kitchen. “Sure. I’ll try not to lose any fingers.” He was rewarded by Sanji's laughter.

Sanji started to leave and paused in the middle of opening the door as someone spoke outside, her words dryly amused.

“Stare harder, Mauro. I think I saw some of the paint wilt off the door.”

Gin recognized Haruna's voice even as Sanji's face lit up. “And to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?” Sanji asked, opening the door with a flourish and elaborate bow. He beamed at Haruna, who was frowning, and ignored Mauro, who was staring at him as though Sanji had grown three heads.

Haruna's frown didn't lessen even when Gin grimaced at her, warning her to behave. She said coolly, “Just bringing Mauro and our supply list to you.” She planted her hand at the small of Mauro’s back and shoved him into the dining room. The corner of her mouth twitched as Mauro almost fell into Sanji's arms. She nodded towards Gin. “See you at the party, boss.”

“Goodbye!” Sanji called after her, sighing a little as she left.

Mauro stepped further into the dining room, edging around Sanji and looking nervous. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a badly crumpled piece of paper. Frowning and trying to smooth out the wrinkles, he said, “Here’s the list, boss. I can bring anything you need--” He glanced towards Gin and stopped, his eyes widening. “Wow,” he breathed.

“What?” Gin said, looking around. The kitchen and dining room were impressive, but he was still a little startled by Mauro’s expression, which was filled with envious longing.

“That _fridge_ , boss-- look at the size of it! And all that counter space!” All nervousness gone, Mauro turned towards Sanji and added eagerly, “Your navigator was saying something about an aquarium too. You actually keep live fish on board?”

Sanji grinned. “You can thank Franky for that. All I asked for was the fridge. He’s the one who came up with the aquarium.”

Mauro looked so wistful that Gin said, “I don’t think the Tsuchinoko can fit an aquarium, but you could ask Kye and see what he says. Or maybe Franky has some ideas about space.”

“Good idea, Gin,” Sanji said, grinning. He nodded at Mauro. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Franky after I talk to Mosshead. I bet he can tell you more about the fridge too. It’s password-protected. And we can go over your supply list.”

“Sure,” Mauro agreed vaguely, still staring longingly towards the fridge. Gin suspected that he hadn't heard a word after Sanji had answered his aquarium question.

“Mauro.”

Mauro blinked, finally tearing his gaze away from the fridge. “Yeah, boss?”

Gin suppressed a smirk, though he hadn't seen Mauro looked this dreamy-eyed since that waitress on Sagill Island had flirted with him. “Go with Sanji and talk to Franky. And let Sanji look at the supply list and tell you what he needs.”

Mauro blinked again, some of the fog clearing from his expression. “Oh right.” He held up the still mostly crumpled paper and frowned at it. “Straw Hat-- uh, I mean, Luffy said something about meat, that you needed more, so I--”

“That shithead,” Sanji growled. His face flushed with anger, his teeth clenching so tightly on his cigarette that Gin was surprised that it didn't break in two. He muttered something under his breath. “I told him not to bother you about meat. Asshole's going to regret going behind my back.” He shook his head. “Let’s go.”

“Uh, right,” Mauro said slowly, looking a little stunned that Sanji would talk about his own captain like that. With one more wistful glance at the kitchen, he followed after Sanji.

Left alone, Gin's thoughts betrayed him. He kept thinking of how his and Sanji's hands had looked side by side, how warm Sanji's breath had felt against his neck. The smell of cigarettes seemed to linger. He grew too hot in his jacket, remembering how close Sanji had stood to him and the way he had smiled when Gin had succeeded.

Then he snorted. Hadn't he told himself he had to get over these feelings? Dwelling on things that Sanji had done in friendship was only going to frustrate him. Still too hot, he peeled off his jacket and set it over the back of the nearest chair. He picked up his knife again, trying to copy the angle Sanji had shown him. After a second, he thought he had it. He took up another carrot, focusing most of his attention on the task, but also turning his thoughts to the next few days.

Sanji had said the jellyfish would take two more days to prepare. That meant the Straw Hats probably intended to stay on the island for at least that long. Gin knew his nakama wouldn't mind a little vacation. There weren't too many chances to relax on the Grand Line. He'd tell Haruna to give everyone some berries from the ship's coffers, let the crew enjoy themselves in town while he went jellyfish hunting with Sanji. 

Maybe afterwards Sanji would want to spar. When they'd fought before, Gin had still been recovering from starvation and imprisonment, and half Sanji's ribs had been broken by Pearl. Now they could fight each other without any handicaps or distractions.

Hopeful anticipation coiled tight in Gin's belly. He remembered Sanji's effortless leap from one deck to the other, and longed to pit his strength against him. But that was tomorrow. Gin looked at his cutting board and frowned. He'd slowed down, too lost in thought to concentrate. He'd never finish chopping the carrots at this rate. He could figure things out later, once he knew more of the Straw Hats' plans. Right now, he needed to focus on this task. Maybe he could even get all the carrots done before Sanji got back. 

"Focus," he muttered to himself, picking up another carrot. He couldn't think of the future, or how soon he and Sanji would have to part ways again. He grimaced, knowing it was true. They weren't traveling the same path. Gin had no desire to be the pirate king like Luffy or even hunt for the One Piece. He just wanted to travel the Grand Line and eventually go back to the East Blue with his crew, returning with plenty of stories and even more gold.

His stomach twisted again, this time unpleasantly. He huffed out a humorless laugh. If Haruna were here, she'd tell him to stop moping. " _Focus_ ," he said again into the quiet of the kitchen. He bent his head over the cutting board. He'd take whatever he could get, savor every second that he'd spend with Sanji, and be content. 


	5. Gin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So between work being unexpectedly busy and computer issues galore, I'm breaking this chapter into two so you don't have to wait longer. Hope you enjoy the update! I promise UST-y sparring in the next chapter. :)
> 
> Thanks again for all your lovely comments!

Gin wouldn't have ever said it aloud, since Haruna would have laughed at him, but there was something satisfying about watching people eat the food he'd helped to make. Seated against the railing, his legs crossed and an empty bowl balanced on his knee, he watched everyone enjoying the feast. At first he was distracted by the sight of Sanji's bright smile whenever someone called for seconds of the pottage, but then he frowned, looking more closely at the group.

The deck seemed practically split down the middle, with the Straw Hats on one side and Gin’s crew on the other. Gin's frown deepened. The seating was probably out of habit and not distrust, he reassured himself as Anfinn leaned forward and said something that made Luffy laugh. And some of his crew _were_  mingling. Mauro had forced Kye to sit next to Franky, both men dwarfed by the cyborg. Kye looked a little daunted, craning his neck to look up at Franky as they talked, but Mauro grinned brightly. Gin could almost see miniature fridges reflected in the cook's eyes. 

Haruna, seeming pleased with herself, was seated in front of the tangerine trees. Nami sat on her left and Nico Robin on her right. Her smile soured at the edges when Sanji bent and offered them another serving.

“Boss, this is great!” Renshaw said, setting his bowl on the deck and wiping at his mouth. As Renshaw reached for his grog, Gin spotted some pottage still caught in his mustache. Gin swallowed back a laugh as Renshaw added, oblivious, “You helped make this?”

Gin shrugged, pleased and trying not to show it. He turned the bowl around on his knee, rubbing a thumb over a chip in the rim before he answered. “Sanji made it. I just chopped the vegetables and stirred the soup.”

Renshaw grinned. “Still, great job, boss!”

Sanji's voice rose above the rest. “And for our second course, by special request, fried rice.” When Gin turned, Sanji was balancing a large tray of what looked to be twenty-eight stacked bowls with one arm and pressing a bowl into Meifeng's hands with his other hand. Gin's gaze lingered on Sanji's new outfit, similar to what he'd worn on the Baratie: a black suit and a shirt and tie, only the shirt and tie were golden yellow instead of blue. Gin liked it. The clothing brought out the gold in Sani's hair and emphasized his long legs.

“Looks good, Sanji!” Luffy said cheerfully, bounding to his feet. He leaped towards the tray, opening his mouth wide as though he intended to devour all the fried rice, including the bowls. He half-swallowed the tip of Sanji’s shoe instead as Sanji swore and roundhouse kicked him in the face. Yelping in surprise, Luffy tumbled head over heels until a hand snaked out and caught him by the shirt, stopping him.

Luffy sat upright, blinking. He grinned briefly. “Thanks, Zoro!” Then he scowled at Sanji. “What was that for? I’m _hungry_!”

“And you’ll get your fucking fried rice in a minute,” Sanji snapped, his eyes narrowed to slits. “But ladies first.” Somehow he'd kept every single bowl on the tray. Gin didn't think a single grain of rice had shifted. Sanji turned an apologetic smile upon Meifeng and bowed, still somehow keeping all the bowls in place. “Please excuse my crap-captain. He’s forgotten his manners.”

“Sure,” Meifeng said, a little faintly. She glanced towards Gin. Judging by the way her face went ashen and she looked away hurriedly, she'd just pictured how Gin would handle one of their nakama kicking him in the head.

Sanji gave the next bowls to the other women, but it seemed he'd taken Gin’s hands-off order seriously. He still showered them with compliments and directed more than one admiring smile toward them, but after Nami's, “Thank you, Sanji!” he bowed and moved without any prompting to Ethelyn and then to the men-- first Luffy, who was wiggling with impatience, and then the others.

Haruna glanced towards Gin, apparently noticing the change. _Did you do something?_ her raised eyebrow asked. When Gin just looked at her, keeping his expression blank, the corner of her mouth twitched. He didn't let his look change, not wanting her to read anything in his face. After a second she shrugged, losing interest as she turned to Nami and said something that made the other woman laugh.

Gin tried not to be too pleased that Sanji had listened. Even knowing that his nakama would never take Sanji seriously, it was a relief that Gin wouldn't have to watch him flirt with them all night.

“As requested, Gin. Your fried rice,” Sanji said, cutting into his thoughts.

Gin blinked, caught off-guard as Sanji crouched in front of him, a steaming bowl in his hand. The wind blew the smell of it into Gin’s face, and for a moment Gin was back on the Baratie deck, Sanji pushing the bowl towards him and telling him to eat.

A warm hand rested against his forehead, the smooth calluses half-familiar now as they drew him back to the present; Gin didn't resist when the hand tipped his head slightly back, the gesture gentle but firm. “Oi,” Sanji said, quietly. There was a hint of a smile in his voice. “No crying into the rice. You'll mess up the flavor.”

Gin realized too late that he was crying almost as hard as he had three years ago, the railing digging painfully into his back with every harsh breath. His face was damp and hot, his throat tight. When he tried to blink, his eyelashes stuck wetly to each other. He couldn't even make out Sanji's expression, just a faint outline of his face and the smudged gold of his hair.

He scrubbed at his face with one hand until he could see again, Sanji's face no longer vague smears of color. Sanji was smiling at him, wearing a look of amusement and what might've been a little concern. Gin cleared his throat, knowing better than to hope that no one else had noticed his crying, but hoping a little anyway. When he glanced over Sanji's shoulder, his nakama all hastily found other things to look at. They studied their shoes, peered intently at the sky, or grew very focused on their conversations. Haruna's face was in her hands, as though she was too embarrassed to even look at him.

Once Sanji removed his hand, Gin tried to speak. The words caught in his throat. He coughed. “Thanks,” he finally said, voice raspy, and reached out for the bowl with hands that thankfully didn't shake. He searched for a joke or sarcastic remark, but came up with nothing. He settled for the truth instead. “I bet it’ll taste just as good as last time.”

Sanji's smile went crooked, like Gin’s honesty had taken him by surprise. Then his smile widened into a confident grin. He flicked his spent cigarette over the railing and lit another one. “Just as good?” he scoffed through a halo of smoke. “Try even better. There are spices on the Grand Line you'll never find in the East Blue.”

“Right,” Gin said, remembering the taste of the chef’s rice, familiar but different, how it had nagged at him like a memory half-forgotten.

Sanji didn’t move. Resting lightly on the balls of his feet, he remained in his crouch. His expression shifted to a half-expectant look. “Well?”

He was waiting for Gin to try the fried rice, Gin realized. Before his face had been hot from crying. Now it warmed again beneath Sanji's gaze. Even the back of his neck felt hot, though he knew that Sanji just wanted to hear how he liked the new recipe. He scrubbed a hand over his face and muttered, “Give me a second.” He licked at his lips, carefully, until he couldn't taste any more salt. Then he ate. He was aware of the weight of Sanji's gaze and the small smile that turned up the corners of Sanji's lips, lightly rounding his cheeks. They almost distracted Gin from the taste of the fried rice.

Time hadn't dulled the memory of the meal that had saved his life. He remembered the perfectly cooked rice, the fresh shrimp and bean sprouts, the light sesame and black pepper, and the temperature that had almost burned his tongue. This time he wasn't starving. He ate slowly, savoring the flavors. He’d watched Sanji cook this, seen his look of concentration as he bent over the skillet and the careful precision in which he'd stirred and fried the ingredients.

Emotion tightened Gin’s chest again, but now he wasn't caught off-guard. He kept himself under control, blinking hard until the prickling beneath his eyelids went away. When he opened his eyes, Sanji was still watching.

“Good?” Sanji asked, though his self-satisfied smile suggested that he already knew the answer.

Gin swallowed another bite. He paused, half-reluctant, because he could have eaten only the fried rice all evening and been happy. Struggling to keep his smile from being the wide, helpless grin from the kitchen, he said, “Still the best fried rice I've ever had.”

“Told you,” Sanji said, though he looked gratified. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he glanced down at Gin’s bowl and smirked, seeing it already half-empty. He picked up his tray, straightening. “Once I get everyone their bowls, I'll bring you some more.”

“Sounds great.” Now that the danger that his emotions would get the better of him again had passed, Gin glanced past Sanji to check on his crew.

Haruna was staring at him. Other people might have thought her expression was blank or maybe even bored, but Gin recognized the faintly incredulous twist of her mouth. To Gin’s experienced eyes, which had learned to read his first mate's more subtle body language, she radiated confused disbelief, as though she still couldn't wrap her head around his crying fit.

Sanji was still in front of him; Gin didn't dare to outright scowl at her. Instead he stared, keeping his expression vague, and thought fiercely, knowing she'd read it in his eyes, _Not. One. Word._  

The corner of Haruna's mouth tucked in, repressing her amusement, and she nodded.

When Gin turned back towards Sanji, Sanji looked puzzled. He glanced between Gin and Haruna. A furrow creased his brow, half-hidden by his hair. He asked slowly, as though confusion weighed down every syllable, “Are you _sure_ you and Haruna aren't together?”

There was a lull in conversation. Into that sudden quiet and caught by the wind, Sanji's question carried across the deck. Heads turned, most of Gin’s crew looking baffled, as though they were wondering if they’d misheard. Then, realizing they hadn't, they turned towards Haruna. Their expressions shifted to nervous looks as they braced themselves for Haruna's possible outburst. 

Haruna sat there. She said nothing. Surprise had swept all other emotion off her face; even the incredulous twist of her mouth was gone. Then astonishment slowly crowded out the surprise, her eyes widening until they were like saucers.

Sanji flushed at her wondering look. Instantly he was all apology, his free hand fluttering around as though to grasp at his earlier words and throw them away. His cigarette shifted from one corner of his mouth to the other as he worked his jaw and grimaced. He began, “I'm sorry! You communicate with Gin so well, I just--”

Haruna laughed. The sound made a few people jump and stare. Even Gin blinked at the unexpected noise. Haruna snickered, sometimes, or snorted, dry sounds of amusement. She didn't laugh full-bodied laughs. But now her shoulders shook, her hand flying up to her mouth as though to muffle the laughter that escaped through her fingers. The laughter continued, taking on a breathless edge. Her other hand hastily covered her eyes, but not before Gin spotted the glint of tears, as though she was laughing so hard that she was crying.

Her bowl of fried rice was close to her foot, which shook as she laughed. Nami carefully drew the bowl out of range. “I think you should take that as a no, Sanji,” she remarked, smiling a little and not looking away from Haruna's shaking frame. Gin wasn't certain what to make of her expression, if she understood the joke when Sanji didn't or if she was just amused at the sight of Haruna half-collapsed against the tree trunk, consumed with laughter. 

“Your intuition is flawless as usual, Nami,” Sanji said, but his fawning smile was brief, returning quickly to his embarrassed look. He'd flushed red to his ears like he had in the kitchen when Gin had offended him. The puzzled crease in his forehead deepened. He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry,” he said again, quieter but just as earnest. He hesitated. “Are you perhaps br--”

“Stop talking,” Haruna said, the order muffled by her hands, and Sanji's mouth snapped shut.

Gin took pity on him. “I'm not Haruna's type,” he said. This understatement earned a more familiar snort from Haruna, a few stifled laughs from the rest of his nakama, and what looked like thoughtful looks from both Nami and Robin. Once again he wondered how far Haruna had gone with her flirting, what Nami knew or suspected, though it wasn't any of his business. 

Sanji kept frowning.

Someone needed to change the subject. Gin caught Kye's eyes and gave him a small nod.

It took a second, but then Kye's eyes widened. He cleared his throat, drawing a few gazes his way. He said into the awkward silence, a little too loud, “So, Mister Franky, this has to be Adam Wood. How the hell did you get your hands on enough for a ship? It must've cost a fortune.” Kye's voice was filled with curiosity, but also a hint of envy, just like Mauro's at the sight of the fridge. He smoothed a hand over the railing next to him, looking wistful. 

Franky laughed. “That’s a pretty super story, actually,” he said cheerfully, and was off and running with the tale, which seemed to be about his unfortunate first encounter with the Straw Hats, involving his former gang beating up Usopp and stealing two hundred million berries from his future nakama to buy the wood. Listening, Gin wondered if all of the Straw Hats had such crazy stories of how they'd joined Luffy's crew. 

Most of the group listened, their attention shifting off Sanji. Still, when Gin studied him, he suspected that Sanji was going to keep apologizing. His gaze was fixed on Haruna, who still had her hands covering her face but was slowly catching her breath, and his cheeks were still flushed, his lips tight and unhappy-looking around his cigarette.

When Gin coughed, Sanji's gaze flicked to him. Sounding worried, Sanji began, “Do you think I offended her? I could apologize--”

Remembering the contemptuous curl of Haruna's mouth when Gin had introduced her to Sanji and the way she had barely hid her dislike even at Gin's orders, Gin repressed a laugh of his own. He said dryly, “If you'd offended her, you'd know it.” Sanji didn't look entirely convinced. “Besides, you already apologized.” When some doubt lingered in Sanji's face, Gin added, “And people are still waiting on their fried rice.”

Sanji blinked at the tray, as though he'd half-forgotten about the food.

“Nice move, by the way, kicking Luffy without spilling any bowls,” Gin said. The compliment finally coaxed a smile from Sanji. Gin remembered his wistful thoughts from the kitchen. The back of his neck warmed. Trying to keep his tone casual, he continued. “I was thinking maybe after the jellyfish hunting, we could spar.”

That caught Sanji's interest. His visible eye gleamed. “Spar?” His smile widened to a grin, his old cockiness returning. He blew out a slow trickle of smoke and said lightly, “I hope you don’t expect me to go easy on you. Think your nakama will get pissed off about a few broken bones?”

Gin grinned back. “Funny. I was going to ask the same thing.” He answered with the same easy tone despite the excited fluttering in his stomach. “You can still cook with a black eye or two, right?”

Sanji laughed. He might’ve said something, except a bright, cheerful voice said, “Sanji, that rice smells delicious!” Sanji's expression softened a little around the edges, and he turned away, saying, “Sorry, Chopper, I got distracted. Here's your rice.”

Gin watched him hand over a bowl to the small, smiling, _talking_  reindeer. He tried not to stare. If someone had told him a week ago that the weird animal on that wanted poster, apparently called Chopper and worth fifty berries, was a devil fruit user and the Straw Hats’ doctor instead of their pet, he probably would've laughed. But that was the Grand Line for you. It seemed like everywhere you went, you tripped over a devil fruit user. 

Struck by a thought, he turned and said, “Luffy. About half of your crew ate the devil fruit, right? How do you handle enemies with seastone?”

Luffy set his bowl down with a thud. Stretching, his arms rising amazingly high above his head, he looked at Gin and grinned like Gin had made a joke. “The navy, you mean? Oh, Sanji and Zoro can handle them.” Someone made a quiet objection at that, too low for Gin to make out, and Luffy added with a laugh, “Oh, and Nami and Usopp and Franky, too. They’ll get us out of any trouble.” There was another quiet objection, a slightly louder muttering about how that hadn't been what he'd been objecting to, but Luffy only laughed again. 

“Right,” Gin said. He remembered the way devil-fruit users dropped like bricks at the touch of seastone, how quickly energy and fight faded from them. Having nearly half their crew incapacitated if the enemy had seastone seemed like a major problem, but there wasn't a flicker of concern on Luffy's face. After a second, Gin shook his head. Obviously the Straw Hats had survived against the navy and World Government and everything the Grand Line had thrown at them. Why bother worrying if Luffy wasn't concerned?

Leaning back against the railing, he picked up his half-full bowl. A mixture of loud and soft conversations washed over him. Franky was still telling his story, though it sounded like some of his crew were interrupting to add missed details. When Gin looked at Haruna again, her hands had finally dropped from her face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but she wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was fixed upon Nami as Nami handed back her bowl and said something that made Haruna smile, a familiar quirk of her lips.

Satisfied, Gin ate the rest of his fried rice. He savored the taste, trying to learn every flavor by heart. Mauro might get the recipe from Sanji, but he knew that it wouldn't be the same. And so Gin ate, gathering up the memories like treasure, watching from the corner of his eye as Sanji moved smoothly across the deck and the two crews mingled and laughed together. 


	6. Gin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be out of town this weekend for family stuff, so I thought I'd post this early rather than trust my mother's dubious internet connection. Hope you enjoy! I had way too much writing this chapter.

Gin hadn’t mentioned the sparring match to anyone, but someone must have overheard them talking. When he and Sanji swam up to the Sunny the next morning, dragging a net of Clalk jellyfish behind them, it looked like everyone in both crews was there to greet them.

Luffy dangled off the Sunny’s figurehead, grinning as he waved and yelled, “Sanji! Gin! Hear you’re gonna fight!”

Gin narrowed his eyes at Haruna, whose smirk as she helped Nami with a rope ladder suggested that even if she hadn't been the first to hear about the match, she’d definitely made sure that as many people as possible knew about it.

“Looks like we've got an audience,” Sanji said. Gin caught his amused smile at the corner of his eye. When Gin looked directly at him, he wished he hadn't. Sanji’s hair was slick and dark from the water, looking more like the style he’d had back on the Baratie. Droplets caught on his lashes and sparkled on his shoulders as he shook his head and hauled himself out of the water, the mid-morning sun falling upon his bare, muscled back.

Gin swallowed, throat dry. When he licked his lips, his mouth tasted sharply of salt. He busied himself dragging the net of jellyfish closer to the ship, still a little baffled at how such small, colorless things could cause such enthusiasm. They must taste better a hell of a lot better than they looked. Passing the net up to Sanji, he remembered their conversation the day before and how they’d joked about their over-protective nakama, and grinned. “Want me to tell them it’s a private ass-kicking?” 

Sanji snorted. “Fuck no. I don’t mind an audience, long as you’re not a sore loser.” He climbed easily up the ladder, pulling the net behind him. As he did, he called over his shoulder, “But first I've got to show Mauro how to properly freeze the jellyfish. Otherwise they’ll lose their taste.”

When Gin hauled himself over the railing, he found Haruna waiting for him. Her smirk had shifted to a faint smile. “So do we get to watch the show, boss?” she asked, her tone too innocent.

Gin narrowed his eyes again. “I thought everyone was going to check out the town.”

He wasn't surprised when humor gleamed in her eyes and she said, “Oh, we all decided we’d go in the afternoon. Who'd want to miss our captain going up against Black Leg Sanji?”

“Right,” he said dryly.

Returning to his cabin, Gin changed quickly. He hesitated for a moment, looking at his jacket with his flag stitched onto the back, and then decided against wearing it. He needed something that wouldn't show any stains, depending on how rough the fight got. Anticipation warmed his stomach at the thought. He was briefly distracted by the memory of Sanji's leg flexing in a kick that would've broken Gin's arm if it had landed. The fact that he was going to be able to pit his strength against Sanji seemed almost too good to be true.

They'd settled on the pier as the spot for their match, preferring to risk damage to the pier than to either ship. When Gin arrived, he saw that no one had budged from their positions on the Sunny. Luffy was now seated cross-legged on the figurehead, his chin propped in his hands. Renshaw offered Gin an enthusiastic wave, and Anfinn looked ready to vibrate out of his skin with excitement. Gin studied the crowd, but Mauro and Sanji were nowhere to be seen.

Impatience nearly choked him. How long did it take to freeze some jellyfish? Then he took a deep breath, thinking of Sanji’s brilliant grin. Sanji would be here. He just had to wait a little longer. 

Ignoring his audience, Gin began his warm-up. He ran a thumb over the tonfa’s handles, the metal there worn smooth by years of use, and then curled his fingers possessively around them. Something in him always relaxed at the familiar weight of the tonfa. He settled into his opening stance, going through the three grips slowly at first, and then faster, until the tonfa were a blur and his heartbeat was fast in his ears, driving away the impatience that wanted to twist him into knots.

 _Honte_. Starting grip, used for protection and adding extra weight behind punches and elbow strikes.

 _Gyakute_. Reverse grip for a strike or thrust.

 _Tokushu_. The shaft grip, which turned the tonfa into a hook to drag the enemy in closer.

The repetitive movements cleared his mind and focused his thoughts. He'd thought about Sanji and that fight a lot over the past few years. Now he went over the fight again, examining Sanji's fighting style for potential weaknesses. Sanji would have picked up a few new attacks and tricks along the way, but the basic foundation of his style wouldn't have changed. Gin shifted to gyakute and struck at the air, imagining Sanji's leg rising to block him. _Honte. Gyakute. Tokushu. Honte. Gyakute. To--_

“Oi, don’t wear yourself out,” Sanji said. “It won't be much fun if you're exhausted at the start.”

Gin stilled, his breath catching in his throat.

Sanji had changed clothes too, wearing a dark suit and boots that shone like they'd just been polished. As Gin watched, Sanji rocked back on his heels and smirked, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. He raised his eyebrow. “Well? You ready, or should I come back later?”

Gin had barely worked up a sweat, his breathing still light and easy. He twirled one of his tonfa slowly, watching as Sanji glanced towards it. Sanji's easy stance shifted, just a little, and Gin grinned. “Sounds like you're trying to buy yourself more time. I'm ready when you are.” 

"Good," Sanji said, and lunged forward. His boot flashed in the sunlight as he kicked at Gin's head. 

If the blow had landed correctly, it would've sent Gin tumbling head over heels. Even knowing the kick was coming, Gin couldn't dodge it entirely. Sanji moved as fast as lightning. Gin took the hit directly on his tonfa, right where it protected his elbow. The deflected blow still sent a bolt of pain and then numbness through Gin's arm. He took a few steps back, shaking out his arm and grinning at the sensation of pins and needles. He laughed, pleased. Sanji wasn't holding back. "Want to try that again?"

Sanji's smirk turned to a dangerous grin. He lashed out again.

This time, even ready for it, the blow knocked Gin off his feet. He rolled with the kick and came up in a defensive crouch, ready for Sanji's follow-up. He caught the kick on one tonfa and struck at Sanji's ankle with the other, trying to knock him off balance. Sanji fell backwards, and Gin lunged, realizing too late as Sanji met his eyes and grinned that Sanji had let himself fall.

Sanji braced himself against the pier's planks and lashed out. There wasn't any way to dodge; the kick hit Gin's stomach just as his tonfa struck Sanji's shoulder. Gin went rolling again, barely managing to keep hold of his tonfa, all the wind knocked out of him. When he struggled up to one knee and looked, Sanji seemed a little rueful, like he'd thought that move was going to work better in his favor. He didn't touch his shoulder, but his hand fluttered at his side like he wanted to feel for any damage.

Gasping a little, Gin grinned through the pain. Above them, their audience was cheering and shouting out encouragement. Gin tuned them out. He listened instead to the roaring in his ears as he leveraged himself upright, his heartbeat fast and eager. This was what he wanted, to pit his strength against Sanji without any handicaps or hesitation, to see the beauty of Sanji's unhindered fighting. Happiness warmed his stomach, made his footwork feel light. He twirled the tonfa, slowly building up momentum.

"Much better," he said, once he'd gotten his breath back. He laughed again, the delight a sweet ache in his chest. "But now it's my turn."

He launched himself at Sanji.

Sanji rushed forward to meet him, grinning from ear to ear.

The next few minutes were a blur. They exchanged blows so quickly and fiercely that Gin couldn't keep count, except for the lingering aches that promised bruises every time Sanji slipped beneath his defenses. Throughout the barrage, Sanji's smile didn't falter. In fact, his grin seemed to get bigger every time Gin landed a blow, like he was just as happy for this chance to fight as equals. Gin had caught Sanji's mouth with his handle at some point; his lower lip was swollen, blood beading at the corner, but Sanji had kept hold of his cigarette somehow. The smoke left behind afterimages in the shape of his head as Sanji spun and pirouetted across the pier.

Gin saw an opening and lunged. He slammed one of the tonfa's balls by Sanji's feet, not smashing the pier like he'd destroyed the Baratie deck, but hitting hard enough that the wood groaned and buckled. In the second that Sanji stumbled, trying to regain his footing, Gin struck. Sanji folded over his knee with a startled noise, and then grunted as Gin's other tonfa smashed into his back. He flipped and fell, his back slamming into the planks with another protesting groan from the pier. Before he could do more than get one arm beneath him, his calves flexing and preparing to spring him out of reach, Gin was on him. He drove Sanji back against the planks with the tonfa to his throat, pinning him there.

It had been mostly action and reaction, Gin relying more on his instincts than any strategy, but now the pace of the fight slowed until it came to a temporary stop. Sanji's fingers plucked experimentally at the handle choking him and then stilled for a moment. His chest heaved, his cigarette wobbling at the corner of his mouth as he drew in another harsh breath. He swore, quietly, sounding half-impressed, half-annoyed.

Gin's chest burned with every breath. Now that they'd paused, every bruise and strained muscle  was making itself known. He hadn't fought like this in a while. He ignored the pain, taking a second to blink away the sweat that threatened to sting his eyes. They'd been like this before, he realized, looking down the length of his tonfa towards Sanji, whose single visible eye gleamed defiance.

On the Baratie, Gin had slammed Sanji into the deck and choked him with the handle of his tonfa, bearing his weight down. Sanji had been too injured to get away. Gin would've killed him then, had heard Krieg's impatient order so clearly it was like the don was crouched next to him, hissing the command in his ear. But he hadn't, so busy trying to steel himself to smash Sanji's defiant face into pulp that the opportunity had passed. Sanji had gotten free, buying himself a few more minutes before--

"Hey, shithead," Sanji snarled, and Gin had a split second to realize two things. First, he'd been lost in memories. Second, Sanji must have gotten more flexible over the years. Then Sanji's boot smashed into his head. 

His head snapped to the side, so sudden that it wrenched his neck and shoulder. He went flying, one of his tonfa slipping from his grip as he rolled and tumbled across the pier. The planks felt like a dozen smaller blows against his back and head, and then suddenly there was nothing beneath him but air. Sanji had kicked him clean off the pier. Gin's free hand shot out; he clutched at the pier's edge. The wood bit into his fingers as his boots struck the ocean's surface, sending up sprays of water.

He tightened his grip, hauling himself one-armed back onto the pier. He landed in a crouch, his tonfa at ready, just in time to catch the other tonfa as Sanji kicked it at him. He rocked back on his feet, bracing himself for another barrage of kicks, but Sanji didn't move. 

"What the hell was that?" Sanji demanded. 

Gin blinked at him, still a little woozy from the blow. The side of his head throbbed. He resisted the urge to touch the sorest spot and see if his hand came away bloody. Jedrick wasn't going to be happy. "What?"

"What the hell was that?" Sanji repeated through gritted teeth. The grin was gone from his face, replaced by a scowl. He looked pissed off. "I thought you knew better than to underestimate me. Or did you get fucking bored or something?"

"I," Gin said, and flushed. He floundered. He didn't know what to say. He didn't think it would help to say that he'd been remembering when he'd nearly killed Sanji. Not that he intended to apologize, or thought Sanji expected him to -- they'd both been doing what they'd thought was necessary, and even if Krieg had turned out to be the wrong man to follow, Gin still didn't regret most of what he'd done for him. But he didn't want to spoil the fight, and he figured dredging up old history and talking about why he'd gotten distracted would do that.

He shrugged, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and hunted for a lie Sanji would believe, or at least one Sanji could swallow, something that would soothe Sanji's ruffled pride. "Nah," he said at last, and attempted a grin. "Just surprised you fell for pretty much the same trick twice."

It was Sanji's turn to blink. His expression changed, though Gin couldn't tell what he was thinking. Then Sanji flicked his cigarette away and lit a new one, smiling as he blew out smoke. It wreathed his head like a crown. His boot tapped out a slow beat that Gin didn't recognize. "Yeah, well. Got out of it twice, didn't I?"

Gin snorted. "Right. At least this time you didn't spit your cigarette in my face." He touched his face briefly, remembering the sudden pain and how he'd choked on smoke and ash as he reeled away. He laughed, though his head ached at the gesture. "People might think you're getting soft." 

"Fuck off," Sanji said, but he was grinning as he launched a kick at Gin's knee. 

Before, Gin had been acting on pure instinct and adrenaline, with no room in his head for thinking about anything but blocking and attacking. Now, as they sparred, the blows still falling fast and furious, there was a small part of his mind that couldn't help but focus on other things. The way the sunlight caught on Sanji's hair and turned it even more like gold. The graceful arc of Sanji's body as he twisted and flipped and leaped across the pier. How his smile was one of the best things Gin had ever seen.

The sun pounded on Gin's exposed skin like it wanted in on the fight. Gin didn't dare to take his eyes off Sanji and give him an opening, but the sun seemed higher in the sky. It felt like they'd been fighting for a while. Each breath was a painful wrench of his chest, and he could hear Sanji gasping for breath as well. Sanji was still grinning, his eyes just as defiant, but his face was flushed, and his kicks felt a little weaker than at the start.

Sweat threatened to drip into Gin's eyes. He took a few steps back, out of the range of Sanji's kicks. He hastily swiped at his face with his forearm, still trying to keep Sanji half in his sights. He heard rather than saw Sanji dart across the deck towards him as his boots struck the planks, and blindly threw a tonfa up for a block. The kick never came. Instead Sanji made a startled noise like a yelp and crashed into him. Sanji's fingers scrabbled and clutched at Gin's arms, like he'd slipped on sweat or water and was trying and failing to keep his balance.

Gin had a second to begin lowering his arm and start to meet Sanji's surprised eyes, and then Sanji's flailing foot struck Gin's ankle, hard. His leg buckled. They both fell, Sanji cursing a blue streak in his ear and grabbing at his shoulders. Gin dropped both tonfa, trying to get one knee braced under him as he reached out to steady Sanji. His hand fell on Sanji's knee, and he froze, all the breath knocked out of him at once. His hand was curled around Sanji's knee; his fingertips brushed the thick muscle of Sanji's thigh and felt it tense through the pants' thin fabric. His mind went blank.

When he raised his face to Sanji's, Sanji was too close. Smoke from his cigarette filled Gin's nose and made his eyes burn. Blinking, he looked at the flush on Sanji's cheeks and the tempting curl of his pursed mouth, the tendons in his wrists as he steadied himself on Gin's shoulders. Gin had the sudden, stupid urge to put his other hand to Sanji's hip and hold him still. He didn't, but something like panic bloomed in him that Sanji would look into his face and see. His hand clenched tight on Sanji's knee and he tossed him to the side, for a second not caring where Sanji landed as long as it was away from him.

He realized too late where he'd flung Sanji. He winced a little at the loud, startled "Fuck!" and ensuing splash. Turning slowly towards the pier's edge, he watched a dripping wet and pissed-off Sanji haul himself out of the sea. He grimaced an apology, embarrassment warming the back of his neck. Before he could speak, Sanji fixed him with a dark look. Somehow he'd kept hold of his cigarette, but it was swollen with salt water and looked ready to dissolve.

Sanji spit it out and glowered. "What the fuck," he said, words too flat to be a question. 

Gin grimaced again and shrugged. He lowered his gaze, trying to think, but that only meant he was staring at Sanji's suit, which stuck wetly to him. The soaked fabric clung, stretched tight over his lean frame. When Sanji plucked at his collar, trying to wring some water from it, Gin caught a glimpse of Sanji's collarbone. Heat crept into his face. He stared at Sanji's shoes instead. That seemed safer. He hunted for something Sanji might believe. "Just returning the favor from earlier. Not my fault if you actually fell in." He glanced up, trying to gauge Sanji's reaction.

Much to his relief, a reluctant smirk flickered across Sanji's face. The angry lines of his face softened a little. He shook his head, muttering without any heat, "Asshole." He pulled out a cigarette pack, and then snarled, discovering it was waterlogged too. He tossed the ruined pack over his shoulder, back to scowling. "Shit. You owe me a pack of cigarettes." 

"Sure," Gin agreed easily. 

After a second, Sanji's eyebrow raised. He rocked back on his feet, another irritated grimace curling his mouth as his shoes squelched. "Well?" He flicked his fingers towards Gin's feet. "You giving up?" 

Gin blinked down at the tonfa, forgotten in his panic at Sanji's nearness. He crouched and picked them up. All his muscles had started to stiffen up during the brief lull in fighting, but he ignored the protesting twinges. He wasn't going to give up over a couple bruises, not when there was still the glint of challenge in Sanji's eyes. Still, when he dropped his gaze to Sanji's legs to watch for any tell-tale tension as Sanji prepared for a kick, he grew distracted by how the fabric clung to Sanji's thighs and calves.

His mouth felt dry. He remembered the thick muscle beneath his fingertips, the warmth of Sanji's skin. Hunger settled low and heavy in his belly, weighing him down. Gin licked his lips. He rolled his shoulders, trying to buy a little time and get himself back under control. It didn't really work. He felt flat-footed and off-balance, like he'd lost his land-legs. Ignoring the feeling, he twirled one of his tonfa and said, "You wish." 

Sanji grinned. Satisfaction spread across his face. His legs tensed, and he launched himself towards Gin. Just as swiftly, though, he skidded to a stop as an exasperated voice yelled from above, "Sanji, are you two going to fight  _all day_? It's lunchtime!"

Immediately Sanji's expression changed. It was like a switch had been flipped in his brain. All the fight drained out of him. He turned sharply on heel, clasping his hands in front of him and staring up at the Sunny. "I'm so sorry, Nami!" he called. He was using that same apologetic voice from before, the one that didn't suit him at all. "I didn't realize how late it had gotten! I'll make you lunch immediately! Are any of the other ladies hungry as well? I can--" 

"That was a pretty good fight, but I want lunch too!" Luffy called, and though Gin could only see Sanji's back, he could hear Sanji's eye-roll as Sanji said, "Of course you do, Luffy. I was asking about the _ladies._ " 

Gin wavered between relief and disappointment. On the one hand, he was pretty sure he'd been about to get his ass kicked, too distracted to focus on the fight. On the other hand, even with his muscles aching, he didn't want to lose. He took a few steps forward, until he was standing next to Sanji. "Guess it's my turn to ask if you're giving up," he said.

That earned him a narrow-eyed look. "Fuck no. I'm calling a rain check. You can't expect me to concentrate on the fight if Nami's hungry." 

Relief crowded out the disappointment. He tried not to grin too widely, and wasn't sure if he succeeded. "Same time tomorrow?" 

Sanji nodded. He opened his mouth and then closed it, looking amused as Renshaw leaned over the railing and yelled, "You almost had him, boss!" Before Renshaw could say anything else, Anfinn dragged him back and added, "Everyone's going into town after lunch. You want to come with us?"

"I need to check the captain over first," Jedrick objected. "Some of those kicks looked--" He stopped abruptly, as though someone had stomped on his foot to shut him up.

Gin's chest tightened. He could imagine Renshaw bragging to anyone who'd listen about how Gin had nearly beaten Black Leg Sanji, Anfinn throwing in a few exaggerated details for effect, Haruna looking amused but letting them tell the story. Affection for his nakama welled in him. For a few seconds he didn't trust his voice enough to answer, knowing it would betray him. Then he cleared his throat. "Sure. I owe Sanji a pack of cigarettes." 

"We should go to this tavern Franky was telling us about," Kye said. "They're real accommodating. Even got him cola when it wasn't on the menu!"  

"The Giant and the Lion?" Sanji said. He grinned sideways at Gin. "I'll meet you there later. You can give me the pack then. My brand's Death, but King Ground's fine if they don't have it." 

Gin grinned, pleased. Drinking with Sanji probably wasn't the best idea, but he'd just have to watch how much he drank. Besides, he was going to spend every second with Sanji that he could. "Sounds good," he said, his good humor only dampened a little when Sanji added, "They have a few _beautiful_   waitresses--"


	7. Haruna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backtracking a little here, and hey, it's finally Haruna's turn for a chapter! ...Okay, two chapters, since she and Nami flirted too much to fit into one. Which is also why this was a bit delayed, because I foolishly thought I could fit everything into one update. 
> 
> In any case, please enjoy some backstory for Gin's crew. :)

Haruna squinted resentfully at the sun, regretting her drinking challenge to Nami the night before. She’d suspected that she’d made a mistake at the sympathetic grins a few of Nami’s nakama had worn, and had known it at Nami's too-innocent look and cheerful, “Oh, I’m not much of a drinker, but sure, it might be fun.” Still, Haruna didn't regret the contest completely. She’d held her own pretty well, even if she’d lost. And then there’d been the way Nami had taken to resting her head on Haruna's shoulder towards the end, a warm, heavy weight that Haruna hadn't minded at all.

Remembering Nami’s half-lidded gaze and the flush in her face, some of the pain in Haruna’s head eased. She kept the scowl on her face, though, scattering her nakama with a glare until she claimed a good spot at the Sunny’s railing to watch Gin’s fight.

There was no sign of him or the cook yet. She hadn't thought to ask how long it would take to collect all the jellyfish. She shifted a little, impatient to watch Gin wipe the floor with the cook. Sure, he was Black Leg Sanji, but he didn't seem worth such a huge bounty to Haruna. He seemed like an idiot. Every stupid smile or compliment he directed towards her or Meifeng or Ethelyn irritated her. If Gin hadn't made it clear that she couldn't, she would've knocked out the cook's teeth already. Even now she itched to do it, remembering how Gin's face had crumpled in dismay before he'd gotten control of himself.      

“Morning,” Nami said, smiling at Haruna as she leaned against the railing. She was close enough that they were almost touching. She had a mug in her hands, which she offered to Haruna. Her eyes gleamed with amused sympathy. "Chopper found this recipe a while back that helps with hangovers. I thought you might need it."

Pride warred against the fact that Haruna's head still pounded. Sensibility won out. "Thanks," she said. When she took the mug, Nami's fingers lingered against hers. She was sure it wasn't by accident. Well, pretty sure. It was hard to tell when someone was flirting or just being friendly, though Haruna's instincts rarely steered her wrong. At the very least, she thought wryly, she was better at telling the difference than Gin, who'd nursed that crush of his for three years on a man apparently obsessed with women. And then there had been that trouble on Paest Key....

She took a sip of the medicine and nearly choked. Nami might've warned her. It tasted disgusting, like an awful, lukewarm mix of cinnamon and watermelon. Grimacing, she downed the rest of it in one swallow. For a few seconds her stomach twisted in protest and then settled. Trying to distract herself from the taste, she set the mug on the railing and nodded towards the sea. "How long do you think it'll take them to get the jellyfish?"

"Depends on if they run into a smack or not," Nami said. She laughed at Haruna's expression. "You know how it's a pack of dogs? It's a smack of jellyfish." 

"Huh," Haruna said, frowning, though mostly at the lingering foul taste in her mouth. At least the medicine seemed to be working, her headache fading to something more manageable. She settled herself more firmly against the railing and looked sideways at Nami. This close, she could see the unusual black tattoo on Nami's shoulder. It didn't look like any symbol that Haruna knew. She reached out, her fingers hovering over the thick inked lines, not sure if she should touch it without permission. "What's the story with this?" 

Nami's expression changed, a look flickering across her face that made Haruna feel like apologizing. Before she could, Nami smiled crookedly. The shadow lifted from her expression, replaced by an expression that Haruna hoped was flirtatious. Propping her chin in her hand, she asked, "What makes you think there's a story?"

Haruna snorted. "Every tattoo has a story. Even if it's a stupid one, like you got really drunk and wanted a tattoo and no one was there to stop you." 

Nami's eyebrow rose. She bit her lip, like she was trying not to laugh. "Sounds like you're talking from experience." Then she reached out, her hand settling lightly on Haruna's arm just above the elbow.

Haruna was suddenly very glad she'd gone sleeveless, most of her tattoos on display, ready to be touched. Goosebumps rose as Nami's fingertips ghosted across her skin. Haruna's breath caught in her throat, but she didn't move, not even when Nami paused. 

"And what's the story behind this one?" she asked, beginning to trace the name masked under a second tattoo of flowers. Trust her sharp navigator's eyes to see what most other people missed.  

_D. A. R. I. --_

Haruna spoke before Nami could shape the final A. Time to see if Nami had been flirting or just being friendly. She kept her voice low, though none of the other Straw Hats were within hearing distance. "That was a mistake. I was too young to know that tattoos tend to last longer than, well--" Haruna twisted her mouth a little, remembering. God, Daria had been beautiful. Too bad she'd been a traitorous little shit. "We ended up on opposite sides of a mutiny. She won, marooned me and the captain on an island. Sort of put a damper on the relationship." 

"I bet," Nami said. When Haruna studied her expression, she saw sympathy touched with a hint of satisfaction, like Haruna had answered two questions at once. Nami brushed her thumb across the hidden name, a lingering stroke that made heat pool in Haruna's stomach. "Did you learn your lesson, or are there other names to find?" It might have been an innocent question, if not for the way Nami looked at her, her eyes half-lidded, her smile slow, like they were alone rather than surrounded by Haruna's nakama.

Haruna suddenly wished she hadn't heard about Gin's sparring match with the cook. She wanted to find someplace quiet where she could show Nami all of her tattoos and a few other things. She licked her lips and answered Nami's smile with one of her own. " _Well_ \--"

"There they are!" Anfinn said excitedly.

When Haruna turned, reluctant to look away from Nami, Renshaw had his hand on Anfinn's arm as though to keep him from tumbling overboard as he pointed towards the sea. She looked, spotting first Gin's dark head, and then the cook's paler one, as they swam towards the ship, dragging a net behind them. She helped Nami with the rope ladder, smirking at Gin's narrowed eyes and obvious irritation. Apparently he hadn't been expecting an audience.

As Gin headed back to the Tsuchinoko to change and the cook began to drag Mauro off to the kitchen, Haruna picked up where she and Nami had left off. She said, lightly, "Actually, I was a bit of a slow learner. There's one more.” She lowered her voice. “Though your cook might have a heart attack if I show it here…."  

Nami ran a slow, considering gaze over Haruna's frame.

Haruna went hot all over at the look in Nami's eyes. Damn the cook and Gin's fight anyway. She hoped Gin took him out quickly. She had much better things to do.

Nami raised an eyebrow, her mouth quirking as though she'd read Haruna's mind, and murmured, "Oh? You'll have to show me later." Her fingers stroked over the flowers camouflaging Daria's name one last time and then dropped away. Cool air replaced the warmth of her touch.   

Haruna was content to stand there in silence, imagining all the fun that she and Nami could have once they were alone, but apparently Nami wasn't, glancing thoughtfully between Haruna and the Tsuchinoko.

After a minute, Nami propped her chin on her hand once more and asked, "While we're waiting, mind telling me the whole story of how Gin met Luffy and Sanji? I tried to get more out of Luffy and Sanji, but Luffy's explanations are crap, and Sanji clammed up." The corner of her mouth creased, like she was remembering the cook's obnoxiously fervent apologies for not answering her questions.  

Haruna blinked. She was surprised for a minute, and then wondered at her own surprise. She’d seen the baffled curiosity in Nami’s expression when they’d first met on the Tsuchinoko’s deck. Of course Nami would want to know the whole story. Haruna shrugged. "I wasn't there. I joined Gin's crew later. 'Sides, I'm not a good storyteller. You should talk to Anfinn." She frowned, remembering how Anfinn tended to cry when he got to the part about Gin giving up his gas mask for Straw Hat, and amended, "Or Luong. They were both there."

"Haruna, you need something?" Anfinn asked, looking over at the sound of his name. He brightened when Nami repeated her question.

Haruna fought back a sigh, and resigned herself to watching Anfinn get all red-faced and emotional. She half-listened to the story, knowing it almost by heart after three years. She didn't like to think about it, how badly Krieg had treated Gin, how carelessly he'd used Gin and thrown him away. Anger soured her stomach as Anfinn spoke. She wanted to knock out the cook's teeth, but that was nothing compared to how she felt about Krieg.

Some of that must have crept into her expression, because Nami eyed her as Anfinn described how Sanji had given them a ship. He'd managed to hold himself together longer than Haruna had expected, but now his voice wobbled as he repeated Gin's wish to see Luffy again on the Grand Line. He fell silent. His throat worked, his eyes bright, and Haruna wasn't surprised when he sniffled loudly. 

Nami leaned against the railing, shifting so that her arm pressed against Haruna's. Smoothing her hair away from her face, she said in a soft voice, "Sounds like Gin planned to stay with Krieg. What made him change his mind?"

Anfinn's face went even splotchier. When Haruna studied her nakama, most of the crew that had followed Gin from the remains of Krieg's armada were looking suspiciously red-eyed, though Luong seemed to be holding it together better than the rest. Even the crew who'd come with Haruna from Swinburne's ship had been affected by the story, wearing frowns and pinched looks. Only Ethelyn met her eyes with a wry smile, seeming amused by their nakama's emotional display. Fond exasperation caught at Haruna. She wondered, not for the first time, how Gin had managed to gather up such a crew of crybabies. She hastily caught Luong's eye and nodded at him.

Understanding, he tossed a handkerchief at Anfinn. As Anfinn caught it and mopped at his face, Luong said, "Let me tell this bit, Finn."

"Sure," Anfinn said, his voice muffled by the handkerchief.  

Anfinn was the better storyteller, but Luong's voice was steadier and easier to listen to. Haruna was drawn into the story in spite of herself, though she tried not to listen. She wasn't much for what-if scenarios -- most days she let Gin handle the strategy and bigger picture stuff -- but whenever she listened to this part she always wondered what might have happened to her and her nakama if Krieg hadn't been stupid enough to send Gin away. The thought made her want to hit something.

Haruna gritted her teeth, digging her nails into the railing as Luong explained how Krieg had woken up just as they'd reached the nearest island. He'd told Gin to leave, and Gin hadn't argued, unsteady on his feet and still struggling for breath with damaged lungs as he turned and headed up the beach towards the village. She tried to make Luong's words go in one ear and out the other, but it didn't work. She'd seen Gin in pain, knew what his expression was when he was hurt and trying not to show it. She could easily imagine his face, a mixture of that pained look and the crumpled, disappointed expression he'd worn when Sanji had started flirting with her. 

Here, though, Luong paused, as though hunting for words. At last he shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. "And some of us followed him and dragged him to a doctor. And then we just…wouldn't go away."

"Krieg would've killed everyone to win." Renshaw's voice was low. When Haruna looked at him, surprised, he was staring down at the pier, where Gin had arrived and was beginning his warm-ups. "He didn't care about us. And--" It was his turn to shrug. "I thought that was how it always was, you know? The strong survive. But then I saw the cook and Straw Hat, how they protected people while Krieg poisoned Gin just for trying to pay back a debt. And then Krieg wasn't the strongest anymore-- And Gin...."

"Gin did so much for the don," Anfinn said when Renshaw paused. His eyes were still red, his voice hoarse, but he spoke steadily enough. "For years, he was-- After Hawkeye took out the armada, when the Navy attacked us, Gin volunteered as bait to help us escape. It wasn't just for Krieg. I saw Gin when he came back to the ship and saw us all starving. He  _cared_. Your Straw Hat was going to be the Pirate King, but he’d never throw away his nakama to do it. He'd protect them and anyone else who asked for his help. I figured Gin would be a captain like that. And I was right." 

"Enough," Haruna said, hearing the wobble return to Anfinn's voice. Her chest was tight, embarrassment pinching at her. Why did her nakama have to talk about their feelings so much? She cleared her throat. "I think she gets it." She startled as Luffy laughed, the sound loud and pleased. Looking around, she realized that the other Straw Hats had been listening. Most of them were smiling; Franky wiped at his eyes and muttered something about allergies. When she turned towards Luffy, he was grinning broadly.

"Hear that?" he said. "I knew Gin was a good captain!"

"Who said he wasn't?" asked a new voice. The cook smirked around his cigarette as the crowd parted for him. He'd cleaned himself up. Even his shoes looked polished. Haruna sourly wondered who he was trying to impress. Then something shifted in the cook's face. His expression softened, but not in the stupid, sappy way it did when he looked at women. His smile went crooked, and Haruna felt a rush of reluctant goodwill as the cook added, his voice warm, "Of fucking course he's a great captain. Gin's too damn loyal for his own good." 

Then his eyes narrowed. "Oi, what's he's doing, wearing himself out before the match?" Before anyone could answer, he vaulted over the railing and landed on the pier, sauntering over to where Gin was still practicing and saying something that made Gin grin.  

Haruna leaned against the railing, watching the cook kick at Gin's head. She still didn't like him much, but between that little speech, the pleased grin when he’d first seen Gin, and the fond way he'd smiled when Gin had cried over the rice, maybe he wasn't _completely_ awful. She still wanted to knock his teeth out, though. She felt Nami settle next to her, allowing herself to be distracted by their arms brushing again. She dismissed the cook from her thoughts. She brought her mouth close to Nami's ear, smiling at the goosebumps that rose on Nami’s skin and the hint of color that came into her cheeks.

"I have to go into town after this, but maybe later I can show you all my tattoos." 

Nami smiled that slow smile of hers. "I've got a better idea. How about I show you the town, and afterwards I can give you a personal tour of the Sunny? You can show me all your tattoos then." The gleam in her eyes promised that the tour would end at her quarters. 

Anticipation coiled low in Haruna’s stomach. She kept looking at Nami even as Gin or the cook did something that made Anfinn holler encouragement. Again she wished that she and Nami were alone. She wanted to lean in a little closer and kiss the spot just behind Nami’s ear. She swallowed. Fighting down the urge until she knew she wasn’t going to do something stupid, she said, "Great idea." Then she forced her attention on the match, watching as Gin blocked a flurry of kicks from the cook and answered with a blow of his tonfa that sent the cook skidding across the pier.

The cook was good, Haruna realized as she watched. Better than she’d thought he’d be. Then again, he’d fought against Gin before. Sourly, she wondered how he’d fare against her kamas or Meifeng’s hook swords. She snorted. He’d probably get distracted, showering them with compliments instead of kicks. She wistfully imagined wiping that fawning look off his face. The thought of Gin’s reaction and the argument they’d have afterwards made it a brief but sweet fantasy, but she enjoyed it while it lasted.

Then she settled against the railing, waiting for Gin to win.

Every time one of Sanji’s kicks landed, Jedrick made a sympathetic noise, looking unhappier and unhappier. Haruna was about to tell him that Gin would survive a couple bruises when a bright voice said from somewhere around their knees, “It’s okay, Mister Jedrick! Sanji won’t hurt your friend too badly!”

Haruna watched, amused, as Jedrick’s face contorted, like he was thinking several thoughts at once, all of them clashing with each other. Then his expression smoothed out. He even smiled, looking down at the Straw Hats’ strange little doctor, who had slipped through the crowd to pat at Jedrick’s knee in reassurance with his hoof.

When Jedrick spoke, it was like he always did, like a teacher instead of a pirate. Haruna had never heard him use slang in all the years since she’d joined Swinburne’s crew and Jedrick had immediately fussed over her arm, which had been bleeding from the fresh tattoo covering up Daria’s name. She sometimes thought he believed that talking like the rest of the crew would wipe his education straight out of his brain.

“Thank you, Doctor Chopper, but the captain can handle himself.” Something like smugness colored Jedrick’s voice. “See? Your cook’s bleeding.” 

When Haruna looked, the cook was spitting blood at the wooden planks at his feet. He grinned and wiped at the corner of his mouth, looking delighted. Somehow he still had his cigarette; the wind whipped away the smoke as he threw himself at Gin again. It went on like that for a while. Haruna got a little bored, once she realized they were evenly matched. Who knew the cook could actually fight? As the likelihood that Gin was going to break a couple of the cook's ribs dwindled, her attention waned.

She looked back at Nami, whose bright grin and yells of encouragement for her nakama was much more interesting. She admired the flush in Nami's face. She especially liked the way Nami caught her lower lip between her teeth and winced each time Gin landed a blow. Again Haruna thought of kissing her. Damn, she hoped that the fight would end soon. She didn't look away from Nami through their nakama's gasps and shouts of encouragement, mesmerized by Nami's rapidly changing expressions, the arc of her spine as she leaned over the railing for a closer look.

It was only when she heard a sudden splash and a howl of laughter from a few of the Straw Hats that she looked back at the fight. She smirked as the cook hauled himself from the ocean, soaked to the bone. She wasn't sure how Gin had managed that, but she was a little sorry to have missed the sight of the cook falling off the pier. A snort escaped her as the cook realized his pack of cigarettes was ruined. Then she looked closer at Gin and frowned. She was too far away to read his expression, but something was off. He wasn't making any move, not even to pick up his fallen tonfa.

"Are they going to keep fighting?" Chopper asked, sounding dismayed. The reindeer hopped onto the railing, pacing back and forth. He waved a hoof, frowning towards the fight as the cook waved towards the tonfa and Gin finally picked them up. "Sanji's all wet. He's going to catch a cold--" This ended in a startled squeak as his hooves slipped and he fell towards the sea. Two hands shot out to rescue him, Jedrick's and Zoro's.

"You're worrying too much," Zoro said, sounding bored as he lifted Chopper from the railing and set him on his shoulder. "The shitty cook's never been sick a day in his life. He's not going to start now." Haruna watched, a little unnerved to see the pirate hunter run an absent, gentle hand over Chopper's ruffled fur. As Chopper patted the swordsman's head in gratitude, Zoro added with a snort, "Plus, he's too stupid to know when to stop." He glanced over at Haruna, meeting her eyes evenly, a faint smirk on his scarred face. "I don't know if your captain's the same, but Sanji will fight 'til he's unconscious." 

Luffy laughed. "Now that sounds fun!"

Chopper squeaked in concern, hugging Zoro's neck. "Luffy, somebody could get hurt! Can't we get them to stop?"

Haruna smiled wryly, suspecting Gin would welcome a concussion more than a blow to his pride, especially in front of the cook. She frowned again as she looked back at the fight. Gin was still off, though he'd begun to twirl his tonfa in anticipation of another of the cook's kicks. After a second, she realized why. "Footwork's gone to shit," she muttered. He looked off-balance, like he was the one who'd taken a swim instead of the cook, and heavy-footed when he needed to be light on his feet. Her frown deepened, puzzled and a little alarmed. The cook would wipe the pier with him if Gin didn't do something quick. She drew in a frustrated breath, wondering what to do. She couldn't interrupt the fight without getting Gin mad at her. 

She startled as Nami yelled, nearly snarling the words, "Sanji, are you two going to fight all day? It's lunchtime!" When Haruna looked at her in surprise, she didn't see any exasperation in Nami's features, only a hint of amusement that belied her frustrated tone. Nami met her eyes and winked. "Sanji's pretty easy to handle," she murmured as the cook whirled towards the ship, the fight apparently forgotten, and began to sing out apologies. "This way they both can take a break. And we can eat." 

Haruna wanted to kiss her so badly she ached.

Beyond Nami, Anfinn was inviting Gin along with them to town and Ethelyn was stomping on Jedrick's foot as he began to fuss about Gin's injuries. Their voices turned indistinct. Haruna kept her eyes on Nami. Again anticipation warmed her stomach. There was something to be said about a beautiful, confident woman in command, knowing how to get what she wanted.

"Smart," she said, and grinned.


	8. Haruna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Work got super busy on me, and then plot happened.
> 
>  **Warnings** : This chapter includes references to sex and violence, and pirates being pirates.

With some beri in her pocket and Nami with her to show her around, Haruna was feeling good right up until she set foot in the town. 

It was a small town, set up between two hills, all the houses crowded together in a way that made Haruna feel trapped. There was a reason Haruna had gone to sea instead of becoming bandits like her sisters-- she'd always preferred the open sky. There were too many buildings piled on top of each other here. With all these narrow streets and narrower alleyways, she and her nakama felt like easy targets without any easy escape routes. It was strange, too, how empty the streets were. Sure, it was just past lunchtime, but there should be other people outside. Her uneasiness grew.

The nape of her neck prickled. She stiffened. Someone-- no, more than a single someone-- was watching. 

Haruna darted a glance up at the windows, but all the ones she saw were either empty or shuttered. Still, the pressure remained. She looked around at her nakama, but they seemed oblivious, talking cheerfully and grinning. She turned towards Nami, catching the tail-end of an explanation to Gin on where the tobacconist was. Gin's expression was neutral, his stance easy and relaxed. It was only the way his fingers curled against his hip like he wanted to reach for his tonfa that showed he'd noticed they were being watched. 

Haruna touched Nami's shoulder lightly. Nami went quiet, looking a question at her. Smiling as though she couldn't feel the pressure of numerous eyes on her, in case the watchers had a spyglass or just very good eyesight, Haruna said quietly, “Not exactly a welcoming place."

One corner of Nami’s mouth turned down as she shook her head. "Someone’s been keeping an eye on us since we got here. But Luffy says whoever it is doesn't feel like they want to cause any trouble." She paused and added slowly, gazing around at the empty street, “Though at least there were people yesterday….”

Haruna, the pressure of watching eyes heavy against her back, frowned. She hated mysteries, especially ones involving her crew. And she thought again of how easy these small, cramped streets would be for an ambush. Her hand drifted to her side, where she kept one of her kamas concealed beneath her jacket.

She exchanged a glance with Gin, who frowned as he asked, "Luffy didn't try to find who was watching? Or why?"

Mauro and Kye had somehow convinced Franky to skip a meal with the rest of his crew and come with them to the town, Haruna suspected by promising to buy him a lot of cola. The cyborg grinned, his metallic nose flashing in the sunlight. He shrugged his massive shoulders. "Nah, that’s enough for Luffy. They don’t bother us, we don’t bother them."

Haruna and Gin's expressions must have shown their doubt, because Nami sighed. Her rueful smile suggested she'd had similar worries and been outvoted. "That's how we usually play these things,” she said. It was her turn to shrug. “Honestly, most of the time, that’s enough." 

Haruna raised an eyebrow. She had a pretty good idea of what happened when it _wasn’t_ enough. “This happens often?”

Nami's smile turned crooked. "Pretty often. A lot of people get nervous, seeing the Sunny sail into their harbor. Once they figure out we’re not planning on robbing or hurting anyone, they tend to calm down." Then she looked around. Her smile faded. She added, in the same puzzled tone she’d used earlier, “Though it wasn’t this quiet yesterday….”

Haruna didn’t say anything for a moment. She guessed Nami’s answer made sense; the Straw Hats had quite the reputation. And after all that had happened in the years since Marineford, it was smart to be wary of any pirates, no matter what crew they belonged to. She still didn't like it. The empty street made her nervous, too much like the quiet before a storm. The cramped houses closed in around her. She caught herself touching both handles of her kamas in reassurance. Glancing at Gin, she read his look as _Luffy might be fine with that, but we’ll keep on guard._

He scratched at his jaw, his fingers stilling as he repressed a wince. Haruna hadn’t seen him get the head injury that Jedrick had fussed over, but apparently it still hurt. His expression smoothed out. He said, not quite smiling, "I wonder what they’re thinking now, seeing the Straw Hats and the Crimson Serpents in town together."

Nami made a sound that was almost a laugh. She looked up at the shuttered windows with a furrowed brow. “That might explain it. Probably wondering what we’re up to.”

Haruna thought of the wild theories the watchers were probably coming up with, and shook her head. She’d probably laugh about it later, once they were back at the harbor and under the open sky again and safe from an ambush. “Let ‘em guess,” she said. Let them watch and see everyone getting along. They could wonder at it for weeks after the Sunny and the Tsuchinoko left. She took out her purse, heavy with beri, and tossed it idly from one hand to the other. “Right now I’ve got some money to burn. Any ideas?”

“Well,” Gin said, drawing the word out. “I owe Sanji some cigarettes, so unless you started smoking this morning, can’t help you.”

Haruna wondered if she was the only one who noticed the way his smile widened just a little as he said the cook’s name. She swallowed down a sarcastic response, aware that Nami and Franky were watching. She settled for, “I’ll spend my beri on better things, thanks.” She tilted her head, turning her smile on Nami. “Like alcohol.” After all, Nami _had_ invited her back to her quarters. She ignored most things to do with manners, because who’d heard of well-behaved pirates, but she knew that a guest never showed up empty-handed.

Nami grinned. “I know just the place.”

“We’re going to check out The Giant and the Lion, boss,” Kye said. “We’ll meet you there?”

Gin nodded. He was still looking relaxed, though Haruna knew he’d be keeping an eye and ear out about the watchers. He didn’t like mysteries any better than Haruna did.

“Try not to drink the place dry before we get there,” Haruna said dryly, and earned a round of laughter. “Or cause too much trouble.”

“Us?” Renshaw said, wide-eyed with hurt innocence. He could only keep the look on his face for a few seconds before he broke into another laugh. He offered her a sloppy salute. “Sure thing. We’ll behave.”

“Mostly,” Meifeng added, with a sharp smile.

Nami touched Haruna’s shoulder, smiling at her, and Haruna left them to it. She followed Nami down three streets and through an alleyway, her attention divided between the sway of Nami’s hips and the prickling sensation of constant eyes against her back.

At last, Nami stopped. “Here it is,” she said, sounding satisfied. The shop’s sign needed a fresh coat of paint, but its name -- _Case by Case_ , a terrible joke that made Haruna wince -- could still be read, if Haruna squinted. “The bartender at The Giant and the Lion recommended it. He said it had a good stock, and good prices.” Then she frowned. “Closed? That can’t be right.”

But when Haruna looked, there was a small closed sign in the window. The window needed washing, though Haruna could still see bottles on display, some sunlight getting through the smudges to gleam off the multicolored glass. The shop looked dark and as empty as the streets. She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they’re closed for lunch?”

“He didn’t mention it,” Nami said, still frowning.

She knocked at the door, three sharp raps, and then blinked as the door swung open and an anxious-looking man said, “A bit early, sir, not that I’m com--” The man’s mouth snapped shut. He stared at them, his face blanching beneath his tan. Then caution replaced his surprise. He studied them both, squinting at their faces. Haruna wondered if she should make the same expression she wore in her bounty picture, just to help him along.

“The sign says closed,” he said at last. His tone was polite, though not exactly welcoming. “If you’d like, we’ll be open in another hour or two.”

Nami gave him a winning smile, one that probably would’ve had Haruna half-wrapped around her finger if it’d been directed at her. “An hour or two? Are you sure you can’t make an exception? Domnall at The Giant and the Lion recommended your shop. We were hoping to stock up our ships.”

“Well--” The man hesitated, the chance at making a profit warring against whatever had made him close his shop for a few hours. Haruna brought out her purse again, helpfully letting the man hear the generous clink of beri inside. “All right. Come in.” He opened the door wider and disappeared back inside.

Haruna glanced at Nami. “Is it just me, or is this town getting weirder and weirder?”

There was a tension in Nami’s face that made her seem older, suddenly. It made Haruna think of when she’d asked the story behind Nami’s tattoo. “Definitely weirder. It reminds me of--” Nami stopped, her frown deepening. “Never mind,” she muttered with a shake of her head, and went in.

Haruna followed after, squinting around the dimly light shop. She mostly stuck to grog, but the place did seem to have plenty of different bottles on its shelves. She wandered towards what looked to be the wine section. The man followed her. “I don’t know about her crew, but mine will want plenty of rum and brandy, though we’ll send my cook tomorrow about buying those,” she told him. Then she lowered her voice, watching from the corner of her eye as Nami bent to study a keg of rum. “Right now I’m looking for a bottle of wine. Something nice.”

For the first time since the shopkeeper had opened the door, he smiled. His watery blue eyes gleamed with understanding. He tapped the side of his nose and nodded. “I have just the thing for you. He’ll like the taste of this, mark my words, or I’ll pay you back every beri.”

“Right.” Haruna somehow kept the dryness out of her voice. She didn’t correct him. Instead she listened carefully as he showed her a bottle of red wine and described its flavor. It sounded nice enough, though she didn’t know what kind of wine Nami liked. What if she preferred white?

“How about two bottles? A white and a red,” she suggested. The question earned an even wider smile and a second bottle pressed into her hands. She paid him for both, and slipped them under her jacket just as Nami came up to them and began to haggle on the price for a couple barrels of rum and brandy for the Sunny.

By the time they’d arrived at an agreement, Nami had come out the clear winner and the man’s smile had soured a little, though he sounded grudgingly impressed as he said, “That’s a deal then. I’ll have everything ready tomorrow.” He hesitated. Something that was too nervous to be curiosity flickered in his face. “Unless you’re leaving today? Or maybe you’re planning on staying a while?”

Haruna opened her mouth, but Nami cut in smoothly, smiling. “Oh, we haven’t decided anything yet. Our crews have a lot to catch up on. Right?” This last part was directed at Haruna, who nodded. “But if you can have the order ready tomorrow, I’ll have some of my nakama pick it up in the afternoon.”

“All right,” the man said, still with that look Haruna couldn’t read. Then he looked at his watch. “Now, I have some other business….” 

“We’ll get out of your way,” Nami said, still smiling as she took Haruna by the arm and steered her towards the door. “Thank you for your time!” It was only once they were outside that the smile dropped from her face.

“You all right?” Haruna asked, not liking the tension in Nami’s body, her knuckles white where they gripped Haruna’s arm, though it didn’t really hurt.

“I just--” Nami stopped, and drew in a deep breath. Slowly, as though with effort, she relaxed. Not looking Haruna in the eyes, she said, “I knew a village once, where pirates made them pay for protection.” She spat out the last word. “This kind of quiet? The empty streets? Businesses being closed at strange hours? It reminds me of collection day.”

Haruna looked at her for a minute. She wasn’t going to ask, but she suspected Nami had known that village better than she was saying.  “Well,” she said. “We could stick around and see if a guy wanting money shows up.” She remembered Nami’s punch that had sent Straw Hat Luffy to his knees, and wondered what other moves Nami had up her sleeves. She smiled with all her teeth, a warmth in her belly that wasn’t arousal, but something close. “I’d rather go back to your ship and get that personal tour, if I’m being honest, but I don’t mind a fight, either.”

Nami shot her a quick, searching look. Then a pleased smile spread across her face, rounding her cheeks and crinkling her eyes. She squeezed Haruna’s arm. “Are you sure? I remember something about not causing trouble.”

Haruna grinned. “Yeah, well, that was mostly a suggestion. Gin won’t hold me to it.” She spotted movement from the corner of her eye and turned, her hands moving to her kamas.

The man who’d just turned the corner stopped in his tracks, staring at them. Haruna took in the man’s unfamiliar face, his silver-streaked black hair, the four gold hoops in his ear, and, most importantly, the suspicious bag under one arm, before he turned and disappeared.

Nami bolted after him, fast as lightning, and Haruna followed. The bottles knocked sharply against her sides with every step, an unwelcome distraction. She hoped running wouldn’t ruin the taste. She turned the corner and skidded to a stop, her boots sliding across the pave-stone. She managed to avoid colliding into Nami, but only by a hair.

The street was empty.

Nami didn’t curse, though she looked like she was thinking about it. Then she sighed and smoothed her hair away from her face. “Well, I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again. I’ll tell Luffy about it later.” She pursed her lips. “Though I don’t think the townspeople trust us enough to ask for help, even if we'd caught him….”

“Would you help them?” Haruna asked, surprised, and then wondered at her own surprise. Helping people other than nakama didn’t sound like any pirate crew she knew, but the Straw Hats weren’t exactly normal. Before Nami could answer, she added, “Well, I’m always happy to beat a few faces in, if you need me.” 

The offer startled a laugh out of Nami. “Thanks,” she said. Her expression lost that tense look, her eyes growing warm. She touched Haruna’s shoulder again and rubbed her thumb over the flowers hiding Daria’s name. “But right now I’d rather give you that tour.” 

Haruna grinned. “Lead the way.”           

 

* * *

 

It turned out that Nami's tour of the Sunny skipped straight to her quarters.

Unease touched Haruna again as she stepped inside. She stopped, confused, wondering at her reaction. Then her gaze rested on the single bed. She looked around, but there was no hammock or cot, nothing to suggest that Nami and Robin weren’t sleeping together.

She thought of Robin’s quiet smile, the laughter in her eyes like she was enjoying a private joke as Nami had rested her head on Haruna’s shoulder during the party. Haruna’s stomach soured a little. Was she the joke? She didn’t think Nami or Robin was the kind to pull a dirty trick, but she’d been blindsided by beautiful women before. She didn’t let herself touch the tattoo, though her fingers itched.

“Look,” she said, and something in her voice made Nami turn sharply from the door. She nodded towards the bed. “I don’t like complications. I figured we could have a little bit of fun, that’s all. So if you and Robin have a thing, I don’t--”

Nami’s face, which had been puzzled, now cleared. She laughed, a high, helpless giggle. “You think-- oh no. Robin and I aren’t like that at all. I just wanted her close to me. I--” Her amusement faded. “You probably wondered where we were for two years. Why we dropped off the face of the earth.”

The quiet words weren’t a question, but Haruna nodded anyway, remembering Gin’s fruitless searching of the newspaper every week for word about the cook and his crew, the way he’d grimly refused to admit that something had happened to the Straw Hats, and the relief he hadn’t been able to hide when Meifeng had brought him the newspaper announcing the Straw Hats’ return.

Nami said, evenly, “We were separated.”

Haruna thought of being parted from her nakama for two years. Pain welled in her chest, sharp and terrible, strangling her. She caught herself wanting to find her nakama and reassure herself that they were all safe and sound, drinking themselves stupid at the tavern. They were a bunch of crybabies, but they were _hers._

“Sorry. Sounds--” Words failed her, like they usually did. She grimaced. She wanted to hit something, like she wanted to knock out the cook’s teeth, like she wanted to hurt Krieg. She pulled the wine out instead. There wasn’t anyone here to fight, so she could do the next best thing. The alcohol made a satisfying sound as she held up the bottles and bared her teeth in a smile. “Sounds like you need a drink. Don’t know if you like red or--”

Nami kissed her.

For a second Haruna stood there, stunned by Nami’s warm, sweet mouth. Then she tossed the bottles over her shoulder, hopefully towards the bed, but not really caring if they broke as she pulled Nami closer, Nami’s hip fitting perfectly in her hand.

She kissed Nami the way she’d wanted to since she’d watched Nami send Straw Hat Luffy to his knees on the Tsuchinoko’s deck. Nami answered her kiss for kiss, laughing against her mouth, and Haruna laughed too, breathlessly. This was a hundred times better than talking. 

When they broke apart, gasping, Haruna swung Nami off her feet, half-carrying her as Nami laughed again. Haruna took one step, and then another. Then she let go, letting Nami fall back onto the bed.

Nami kicked off her sandals and then stretched out on the sheets. Placing her arms behind her head, she raised an eyebrow. She smiled slowly, an invitation. “I’m not really in the mood for a drink,” she said. Her gaze swept over Haruna’s arms, as strong as a touch. “I’m more interested in your tattoos.”

“Right,” Haruna said, grinning. She stripped, watching Nami’s expression grow hungrier with every discarded piece of clothing. Finally, naked, she spread out her arms and slowly turned in place so Nami could see all her tattoos, the ones that covered nearly every inch of her skin. “Well?”

Nami’s answer was to drag Haruna down to the bed. She found each tattoo with her lips and fingers, showering them with kisses and touches. Her mouth lingered on the two coiled serpents on Haruna’s back, twined around her shoulder-blades. Then her tongue flicked against Haruna’s skin, finding the name that the left serpent had swallowed and hidden, tracing the letters as she’d traced Daria’s name.

_A. V. E. R. Y._

Nami paused. “What’s her story?” There was a smile in her voice. Her hands stroked over Haruna’s skin, following the serpents all the way down her back until they rested against her hips.

Haruna swore, a rough, breathless sound. She was hot all over, like Nami’s kisses had been fire, the sweet ache between her legs now almost painful. She liked a little foreplay, but this was too much.  “No more stories,” she said, rolling over so that she could meet Nami’s warm eyes. “Come on, let’s--”

She kissed her, urgently, clutching at the fabric of Nami’s shirt, and Nami laughed into her mouth and took pity.

 

* * *

 

 

Afterwards, Nami ran a hand over Haruna’s hair and asked, “So, how did you join Gin’s crew?” 

Haruna, her head resting on Nami’s stomach and one arm flung over Nami’s waist, tensed. Nami’s hand stilled. After a second, Haruna realized why she’d been startled. She hadn’t expected the question. It wasn’t a story that people asked about. More importantly, it wasn’t one Haruna knew how to tell. Not that she thought she’d get weepy like Anfinn or Renshaw, but she didn’t feel like picking at an old scab.  

Indecision gnawed at her belly. She stalled for time, muttering against Nami’s skin, “You know, most women are too worn out to talk. I’m a little insulted.” She felt quiet laughter in the sudden rise and fall of Nami’s stomach.

Nami stroked her hair again. “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious.”

Of course she was. Navigators had curiosity in their bones. Haruna thought of Meifeng and Renshaw, the excited gleams in their eyes whenever the Tsuchinoko approached a new island. She hesitated. There wasn’t any reason not to tell Nami. It wasn’t a secret, or even anything she was really ashamed of. Still, she didn’t exactly look on that point in her life with fondness.

“I’m not a good storyteller,” she warned, and then huffed out a laugh as Nami said, “I’m sure you’re better than Luffy.”

Haruna was quiet for a minute, trying to figure out where to start.

Slowly, she said, “Captain Agam and I were marooned for two weeks before another ship found us. He talked a lot. The mutiny broke him, I think. Kept going on about how he’d failed and that he should go back and become a farmer like his brother.” She paused. “I stopped listening after a while. He’d been a good captain and hadn’t deserved the mutiny, but--” She shrugged.

“The ship that found us was the Golden Grail. Captain Swinburne seemed like a decent enough captain, and I wasn’t going to give up that easy, so when he offered me a place on his crew, I said yes.”

She paused, remembering Swinburne’s sea-roughened features, his bristling eyebrows, the lopsided slant of his mouth like he was constantly about to say something sarcastic. “He was a good captain, right up until we met up with a survivor of the Grand Line, who’d lost his arm and an eye, but had some of the most amazing treasure. A pearl the size of your fist, spices any East Blue cook would pay a fortune for, the greenest emerald I’ve ever seen--” 

Haruna huffed out a humorless laugh. “After that, it was like a sickness. Swinburne _had_ to go to the Grand Line. It wasn’t that the rest of us were cowards, we’d all seen the treasure, we all wanted to go, but we needed a _plan_ , and he didn’t want to wait, and--” She faltered. “And it all went wrong.”

 

* * *

 

**Three Years Earlier**

“We’ll head to Loguetown as soon as the ship’s repaired.”

The inn went quiet after that announcement, or maybe that was just the roaring in Haruna’s ears that drowned out all other conversation. She rose from her seat, ignoring the anxious looks on her nakama’s faces and the way Meifeng plucked at her sleeve as though to stop her. When she met Swinburne’s gaze, his eyes were cold and gray and uninterested, as though the Grand Line was all he cared about. His gaze had been warmer, surely, before that damn idiot with his treasure had told them so much about the Grand Line.

“Captain,” she said, and licked her lips. She fumbled for the right words, something to make Swinburne see sense. “We can’t go to the Grand Line like this. We’ve lost--” Furious grief choked her. Fuck the Navy. She thought of Nata, the lightweight who always got drunk off one glass of wine; of Chalsie, who could shoot the wings off a fly at fifty paces; and Bernardo, who’d had that annoying habit of humming under his breath. The only thing that made their deaths even a little bit bearable was the satisfaction that the Golden Grail had foundered the Navy ship.

She found her voice again. “We just lost Nata, Chalsie and Bernardo, sir.” She waved a hand at Jedrick, nursing a bruised jaw and anxious look, and Meifeng, her arm in a sling, her good hand still gripping Haruna’s sleeve. Her head ached, and she resisted the urge to touch where the mast had grazed her as it fell, destroyed by Navy cannons, and her black eye. “The Golden Grail is barely afloat. There’s only five of us left, and most of us are injured. We need time--”

“We leave as soon as the ship’s repaired,” Swinburne said, as though she hadn’t said a word. His expression hadn’t changed. His voice was flat. She might as well have been talking to a rock.

Her temper flared. Her voice rose even though she knew shouting wouldn’t help. “Captain, give us a couple weeks. Meifeng can’t navigate with a broken arm--”

“Then we’ll replace her,” Swinburne said calmly.  

Meifeng’s hand fell away from Haruna’s sleeve.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Meifeng’s face, the way it had crumpled in hurt disbelief. Haruna couldn’t breathe, suddenly. Anger made it difficult to think, though the thought came to her, dully, that she was a bad judge of people. “Replace her,” she said, incredulous. “She’s our _nakama_. You can’t just….” She took a breath, trying to calm down. It didn’t work. “Look, captain, just give us a few weeks. Let us learn a little more about the Grand Line….”

But Swinburne ignored her, turning away.

Haruna didn’t think. She grabbed his arm. “Captain--”

With her black eye, she didn’t see the blow coming. It clipped her ear. Her legs, already unsteady, gave way, and she crumpled to one knee, her head ringing. She instinctively groped for her kamas, but before she could do more than grip the handles, the sound of breaking wood met her ears.

She blinked and raised her head. Swinburne wasn’t in front of her anymore. Instead he seemed to have been slammed into the bar with enough force to shatter it, his body limp and what was either blood or wine staining his coat. Personally, Haruna hoped for the former.  

“Sorry,” an unfamiliar voice said, not sounding sorry at all. “I should’ve let you deal with him, but his face was annoying me.”

Haruna turned, rising to her feet.

The man hefted his tonfa and let it rest lightly across his shoulders as their gazes met. He was gray-faced, with deep shadows under his eyes, and his voice was rough, like he was recovering from a bad illness. Still, he held the tonfa like it weighed nothing, and he’d obviously been strong enough to send Swinburne, not a small man, flying.

Haruna raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. You should’ve let me deal with him.” Then she walked over to the bar, where the bartender was eyeing Swinburne’s unconscious body with an irritated look. She fished out his purse and tossed it at the bartender, whose face got a little less sour. “For damages. When he wakes up, tell him he can find another first mate.”

When she turned, her nakama were all smiling at her, Meifeng’s eyes suspiciously bright as Jedrick cleared his throat and said, “I think you mean that he can find another _crew_. Someone should go down to the dock and let Kye know." He frowned. "And, Haruna, your head--”

“Is fine,” Haruna said, waving off the concern. Her ear hurt, hot and stinging, but Swinburne hadn’t put much power behind it. That made her angrier, in a way. He hadn’t respected her enough to put all his force behind the punch. If that man with his tonfa hadn’t interrupted, she would’ve shown him how big a mistake that had been. “The mast couldn’t take me out. Swinburne’s fist isn’t going to do anything. We’ve got other stuff to worry about.”

“Like finding a new ship,” said the man, and she turned to glare.

“Do you usually stick your nose into other people’s businesses?” she demanded.

He smiled like she’d said something funny. Shaking his head, he said, “Not a lot. But you asked for time to recover. I can give you three weeks if you join my crew.”

Haruna blinked, studying him again. He didn’t look familiar. If he had a bounty, she hadn’t seen his poster around. She flicked a glance towards Meifeng and the others, who looked startled but curious. “Your name?”

“Gin.” Something flickered across Gin’s face, too quick for Haruna to make out. “Formerly of Don Krieg’s pirates.”

“Don Krieg!” Jedrick said, startled and impressed, and then made a sound like Meifeng had elbowed him.

Haruna tilted her head. She’d heard about Krieg’s armada. “Thought you guys had set off for the Grand Line.”

Gin’s gaze darkened. “We did. We lasted a week. Don Krieg is down to a single ship now. The Grand Line is--” He paused. He looked at Swinburne’s unconscious body, and his mouth tightened. “You can’t prepare for the Grand Line. There are monsters there that you can’t imagine.” Despite the dramatic words, his voice was matter-of-fact.

Haruna was curious, in spite of herself. “The Grand Line took down Krieg? Then why the hell do you want to go back?”

Gin smiled again. This grin was different, lighting up his face with humor. “Why not? Besides, I promised someone I’d see him out on the Grand Line, and I keep my promises.” He paused and added with a shrug, “Say yes or no, make your decision today or next week. When you have an answer for me, just come down to the shipyard and ask for Gin. I’ll be there.”

"Right," Haruna said, and watched him leave.

 

* * *

 

 **Present Time**   

Haruna shrugged, starting to run out of words. "We joined his crew." She smiled crookedly. "Turns out third time’s the charm." 

Nami made a sound of agreement. "I'm glad." She paused. "Though I would've taken Swinburne's purse for myself." 

Haruna laughed. She laughed louder, imagining Swinburne’s uninterested look finally cracking when the bartender told him she’d made off with his money. “Shit. I didn’t even think of that.” She stroked her fingers over Nami’s hip, smiling. She pressed a kiss to Nami’s stomach, and then another a little lower when Nami hummed encouragement.

“Do we have time for some more fun, or will your nakama interrupt?” A thought occurred to her. She remembered again Robin’s amused smile. “How much do they know about…?” She raised her free hand and waved between them.

The bed shifted as Nami shrugged. When Haruna raised her head, Nami looked unconcerned. “They don’t. At least, I haven’t told anyone directly. Robin probably suspects.” She grinned, like she was remembering an old joke. “She knows about my weakness for strong, good-looking women.”

Haruna almost laughed. She was about to, except then she thought of Gin’s face when the cook flirted with her. Her mood soured. Without thinking, she asked, “Any reason you haven’t told them? Don’t want to break your cook’s heart?”

Nami said nothing for a second, looking thoughtful. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled, her expression warm. The back of Haruna's neck heated, embarrassment prickling at her like she'd said too much as Nami said, “It’s none of their business. But they wouldn’t care if I told them.” Some of Haruna’s disbelief must have shown on her face because Nami shrugged again. “Well, Sanji would be... _Sanji_ about it for a while, but he’s…. He’d get over it in the end, after I punched him a couple times. He’s a good guy, when he’s not being an idiot.”  

“Right,” Haruna said slowly, still embarrassed, still thinking of Gin. Then she shook her head. Gin could handle his own hurt feelings. Maybe this would even help him get better taste in men.  

“And your nakama?” Nami asked. “Do they know?”

Haruna snorted, remembering everyone's reactions. Most of them had just shrugged and rolled with it, though Anfinn had looked oddly happy about Gin and Meifeng had taken a couple days to realize Haruna wasn't going to flirt with her. “If they didn't before, they knew after Paest Key.” She watched confusion and then recognition at the name cross Nami’s face. “You probably saw the newspaper about how we burned half the harbor.”

Nami nodded. “I remember that.”

“That was a lie. We burned _one_ ship, after a misunderstanding with its crew.”

“A misunderstanding,” Nami said slowly. "What kind of misunderstanding?"

“There might have been some flirting with the wrong person,” Haruna hedged. She didn’t say it was actually Gin who’d misread the guy’s intentions. Even if Nami probably wouldn't have been surprised by it, it wasn’t Haruna's truth to tell. “And their captain may have said a few things that pissed us off." She snorted again, remembering how red Renshaw's outraged face had gotten. "Shit, they were lucky we waited until they were in town to burn the ship.”

Then she shook her head. This was way too much talking and skirting too close to feelings. She'd been serious, before, that usually the other women were too exhausted to talk. She shifted, draping herself on top of Nami and pressing her down into the mattress. She kissed Nami's jaw and then her mouth as Nami laughed. "Can we stop talking about stuff now? I was hoping for another round before we headed to that tavern."

"Oh," Nami said, laughing, as she wrapped her arms around Haruna's waist and pulled her closer, "I think we have time for one or two more rounds, if we try really hard." 


	9. Gin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the latest update! Finally in the home-stretch of the fic. :) Sorry about the delay in updating-- messed up my shoulder for about a week there and couldn't really write.
> 
>  **Warnings:** This chapter includes sex and violence, pirates being pirates, and some brief homophobia.

By the time Gin had bought Sanji’s pack of cigarettes from the nervous tobacconist and found The Lion and the Giant, his nakama were already well into their cups, apparently having toasted the Tsuchinoko, Gin, and the Straw Hats several times already. 

Gin accepted the glass of whisky Kye pushed at him and chose a spot at the table where he could see the entire room. Apparently the quiet of the streets didn’t extend to the tavern, because it was nearly full, people eating late meals or enjoying an afternoon beer, the door constantly opening as groups came in and out.

He took a small sip of his drink, and raised his eyebrows at the smooth burn.

“Good, boss?” asked Mauro, clutching at his own glass and cheerfully drunk.

“Good,” Gin agreed. He drank slowly, not wanting to drink too much or too fast. Luffy might be comfortable with people watching his crew, but Gin wasn’t. He’d have a glass or two, but not enough to dull his senses. The feeling of being watched was present even here, though muted, like there were fewer eyes on them, maybe only one or two watchers.

Well, the sight of pirates getting drunk wasn't exactly strange or worth much attention, Gin thought, and smiled faintly into his drink as he took another sip.

Sanji arrived with Luffy and most of the other Straw Hats a little while later, their entrance announced by a brief lull as the diners paused, studied them with varying emotions on their faces, and then, when the Straw Hats didn't do anything of interest, slowly returned to their meals.

Most of the Straw Hats headed straight towards the bar, though Luffy got distracted halfway there, pausing to eye some food. He licked his lips, apparently hungry again, and bent to ask the startled diner a question. Remembering how much Luffy had eaten during the party, Gin wondered if Luffy's devil fruit powers meant that he never felt full.

Sanji remained by the door. His gaze passed over the crowd, like he was looking for something. Then his eyes landed Gin. He nearly launched himself across the room, moving with an impatience that confused Gin until he remembered the pack in his pocket.

He fished it out and tossed it to Sanji, repressing a smirk at the memory of Sanji's waterlogged cigarette, how ridiculous it had looked half-dissolved by salt water before Sanji had spit it out. “There. They only had the Death brand.”

“That's fine,” Sanji said, already breaking open the pack. He lit one of the cigarettes and breathed in greedily. He closed his eyes in relief. “Thank fuck.”

Gin’s chest tightened as Sanji's lashes fluttered and his cheeks hollowed, his lips curled fervently around the cigarette. Gin took a deep breath, but that was a mistake. This new brand smelled like spices, tickling Gin’s nose and making him think of the kitchen and Sanji's strong, bare arms as he’d rolled up his sleeves and shown Gin how to bake dessert.

Gin gulped down more whisky, hunting for something to say that would distract Sanji from his blissful reunion with his cigarettes and get that look off his face. “None of my business, I know, but you realize those things will kill you, right?” he said, and laughed when Sanji flipped him off. 

Then Sanji's gaze drifted to the right and lit up. A second later he crooned in that voice that grated on Gin’s ears, “Nerissa, so lovely to see you again! How has your day been?”

Gin settled back in his chair as Sanji darted towards a waitress and launched into a flurry of speech Gin didn't bother listening to. She was tall and red-haired and pretty enough, with a dimple that came and went as she smiled politely. Adoration was stamped onto Sanji's face as he beamed at her, his fawning expression still strange after a full day of Gin witnessing it.

Gin took another sip, realized he’d finished the glass, and signaled for a second one.

He was still nursing his second whisky when Anfinn said, “Hey, boss, there’s Haruna!” He spoke loudly, waving a hand towards the tavern door, where Haruna and Nami had just entered. Anfinn wobbled dangerously in his chair, his pale freckled face flushed from rum.

Gin steadied Anfinn with a hand to his elbow. Then his eyes narrowed as Haruna approached the table. There was something about her pleased saunter that tugged at his memory. Then realization struck. “You've known her for _one day_ ,” he hissed under his breath as soon as she slid into the seat next to him. He warred between being impressed and, well, not jealous exactly, but something that skirted a bit too closely for comfort.

The corner of Haruna’s mouth creased with badly hidden amusement. “Sorry, boss,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. She shrugged. “What can I say? The lady knows what she wants.”

“One day,” Gin repeated, and grimly finished his whisky as Sanji clasped his hand to his heart and said something to a second waitress, this one a small brunette who giggled at him.

When Gin went to signal the bartender for another drink, the man was too busy grinning at Meifeng to notice him. As Gin watched, Meifeng leaned against the counter and smiled back, her hand resting on the bartender's arm. Gin resisted the urge to drop his head in his hands. Was there something about this place?

At Haruna's low-voiced, “Sulking isn't a good look on anybody, boss, not even on you,” he said without heat, “I think Nami's getting lonely. Why don't you go bother her?”

“Good idea,” Haruna said, her smile shifting from teasing to genuine. She got to her feet. Stealing Meifeng's half-finished brandy, she added, “Later, boss.” She paused, her brow wrinkling for a second. “Remind me to tell you later about Nami's theory on that earlier weirdness.” She tilted her head and gave him a look he couldn't quite read. “And try to stay out of trouble.”

Gin snorted. He didn't watch her head over to Nami. Instead he tried to get the bartender's attention again. It was no use. The bartender couldn't tear his gaze away from Meifeng's smile.

Sanji's voice rose, warbling with delight. Gin glanced over just in time to see Sanji pirouette and then catch the waitress's hand in his, managing to look graceful and ridiculous at the same time as she blinked at him.

Gin leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He needed another drink. There was a bad taste in his mouth, jealousy he didn't have any right to souring his stomach. Besides, he didn’t want to be jealous. He wanted Sanji to be happy, whatever that meant. His head ached a little, still tender where Sanji had struck it earlier. What a kick that had been! It had taken a while to convince Jedrick to stop fussing and admit that he didn’t have a concussion. He touched the spot and smiled crookedly, warmed by the memory of the fight and Sanji's agreement to a rain-check.

Still his frustration didn't ease; instead it shifted to restless impatience. Tomorrow and the second match seemed like a million years away. Unbidden, his mind turned to Sanji's bare collar bone, the way he’d licked the blood from the corner of his mouth and smiled, the feel of his thick muscle beneath Gin's hand.

Gin tapped his fingers against his empty glass, keeping his expression blank and his eyes closed as the air turned stifled and thick in his lungs, the tavern room growing overheated and too crowded. He breathed slowly through his nose, and then again. It didn't help. The restlessness choked him. He needed another drink, or maybe a fight, even if the fight wouldn't be against Sanji or nearly as much fun. Besides, he thought dryly, the way the evening was going, Sanji would probably get annoyed with him for messing up the tavern and upsetting the waitresses.

Maybe he could get another whisky if he brought his glass to the bar and got between the bartender and Meifeng for a few seconds. He started to get up and stopped, frowning. He and his nakama were still being watched, the attention a faint but constant prickling against his skin, but now the attention focused sharply on him.

When Gin looked, a man seated near the exit sank low in his chair, peering into his glass as though he'd found something fascinating there. Gin studied him. He had a thin, narrow face, with dirty blond hair and eyebrows so pale that they were nearly invisible, and the emotions coming off him were a complicated tangle.

“Something wrong, boss?” Luong's words were slurred almost beyond understanding, but when Gin glanced at him, he was making a decent attempt at both staying upright and keeping his gaze on Gin.

“No,” Gin said, because the guy's embarrassment dominated all his other feelings, like he was flustered rather than angry at being caught, and then added, “Well, probably not, but I’ll handle it.”

The man hadn't moved, as though Gin would stop noticing him if he stayed still. His eyes widened as Gin approached him, alarm twisting his features. His gaze darted towards the exit, but even as he straightened in his seat and made to stand, Gin was in front of him.

Gin rested one hand on the table and leaned in, blocking off the guy's escape route. He had most of his attention on the man, but some he spared for the rest of the room. There didn't seem to be anyone watching them. He kept his voice low. “Something bothering you?”

The man stared at him. “W-what?” This close Gin could see that he had a small scar at the corner of his mouth. Both of his hands were on the table, the glass he'd half-hidden behind now forgotten by his elbow. If he had a weapon hidden somewhere, he didn't seem about to reach for it, which was disappointing. “I, uh. No?” 

“You were staring,” Gin said. He smiled his smile that always made people nervous. It made the man nervous too, judging by the way he licked his lips and stared. “Something wrong with my face?”

The guy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Then unexpectedly, he flushed, color leaping into his cheeks, and caught his lower lip between his teeth. The complicated riot of emotions gave way to one that Gin didn't understand until the man looked at him from beneath his pale lashes and said, more firmly, “No. There's nothing w-wrong with your face.”

He was _interested_. Gin had misread situations before, the trouble at Paest Key being the messiest example, but no one could misunderstand the man's half-lidded look or the way he kept watching him, half-hopeful and nervous. “Oh,” he said stupidly. The restlessness eased from his throat and coiled in his belly instead. Hesitating, he studied the guy, looking at his dark blond hair and then at his hands, which were callused and roughened by hard work and not at all like Sanji's.

He paused too long. “I mean,” the man said quickly. His fingers drummed a nervous beat against the wood. “I didn't mean to stare. You just, uh, we don't get a lot of strangers. If I'm bothering you, I--”

“You didn't bother me,” Gin said. “I….” He stopped as an argument broke out behind him.

When he turned, Sanji was in the bartender's face, oblivious to the waitresses' embarrassed looks and Meifeng's resentful scowl as he snapped, “What do you mean I can't buy them drinks? I realize they're working, but these ladies deserve a break--” His face was flushed, and he stood poised to leap over the bar and kick the bartender in the head.

Not looking away from the stubborn set of Sanji's mouth, Gin said to the man, “Let's go.”

“Go?” the guy said blankly, sounding confused. “Oh! I, uh, have a room upstairs. If you--” 

“Yeah,” Gin said, and dragged his gaze away from Sanji.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The room was small and sparse, with only the unmade bed, dresser, and single shuttered window. That was all the attention Gin paid to it before he closed the door and said, “I'm Gin, by the way.”

The man, busy staring at his mouth, didn't answer immediately. Gin was about to repeat himself when the guy blinked and nodded. “Right. I, uh, knew that. We get wanted posters every couple of months.” The corners of his eyes creased as he smiled tentatively. “Your picture's nice.”

Gin laughed. His wanted poster picture had him grinning in satisfaction as, out of sight, Haruna beat into a pulp a man who had taken her no for a yes. If anyone looked closely enough at the photograph, they'd see spots of red on his jacket where the man’s blood had splattered on his sleeve.

“Thanks.” He caught the guy by his elbow and pulled him close. “Do I get a name, or should I make something up?”

“I,” the man said, and stopped. He was quiet for so long that Gin thought he wasn't going to answer. Before Gin could tell him to forget it, though, the guy licked his lips, once, twice, and then said quickly, “Bahari. My name's Bahari.”

“Sure,” Gin said, pretending to believe the lie, and kissed him.

Bahari's mouth tasted strongly of cheap beer, and he kissed like he hadn't been with anyone in a while, eager but clumsy. He laughed a rough, flustered sound after he nearly bit Gin's lip. “Sorry,” he muttered. His hand closed around Gin's arm and half-tugged him towards the bed. The other hand fumbled for the drawer, opening it so hastily that he nearly spilled the entire contents onto the ground. He laughed again. “Can we….?”

Downstairs, Sanji was probably still arguing with the bartender. Gin hadn't heard the sound of furniture breaking, so he hadn't gotten into a physical fight. Then again, maybe Meifeng had said something and he'd backed down, his expression filled with that awful apologetic intensity.

Gin pushed that thought away, and said, kissing Bahari again, “Yeah, come on.”

Since leaving Krieg's crew, Gin had slept with a handful of men. He'd mostly let them set the pace, still learning what felt good and what didn't. By the way Bahari clutched at him and the encouraging noises he kept made at each thrust, he probably wanted it fast. “Like this?” he asked, just to be sure, and smirked at Bahari's groan.

Another groan escaped Bahari when Gin paused. For a few seconds he just gasped for breath, staring wild-eyed and disbelieving at Gin. Then he said, his jagged nails digging into Gin’s hips, “Don't stop. Faster _, please._ ” His voice broke on the last word.

Gin obeyed, fucking him hard and fast until Bahari came, muffling a yell in his pillow. Then he slowed to a pace he liked, until he came too. He let himself collapse on the bed next to Bahari, who was catching his breath.

“Want me to go?” Gin asked around a yawn. He'd leave if Bahari wanted him to, but otherwise he was going to sleep. He was pretty sure Bahari wouldn't decide to try to kill him during the night. Even if he did, he didn't have any weapons on hand; Gin had seen that much during Bahari's hasty rummage in the drawer for lotion.

His eyes were already closed when Bahari said, “No, stay.” The bed creaked, as though Bahari had moved, though it didn't feel like he'd shifted closer. When he spoke again, he sounded like he had downstairs, nervous. “Um, are you planning to stay on Brohst a while?”

Gin opened one eye, slightly more awake. He remembered all those unseen eyes on him, their pressure as he’d walked through the town. Bahari had rolled over and was watching him, his expression matching the nervousness in his voice.

“Depends,” Gin said slowly. “Why?”

Bahari laughed, flushing a little. “It's not exactly easy to find a guy who wants--” He waved a hand vaguely, but Gin got the gist. “So I didn't know if this was a one-night thing or if, uh--” He paused, his blush deepening. “Or if there might be a few more days of this….”

Gin studied him. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling the whole truth, either. He shrugged. “Not sure,” he said, settling for honesty, vague though it was. It depended on the Straw Hats, really, and how long they were staying on the island. Then he remembered the anxious tobacconist, whose hands had shaken as he'd given Gin the cigarettes. “But you can tell your friends that we're not looking to cause any trouble.”

Instead of reassuring Bahari, Gin's words seemed to have alarmed him. He sat up, blinking. “My f-friends?” 

Gin frowned. “The other townspeople? The ones watching my crew and the Straw Hats?”

“Oh,” Bahari said, and made a face. He scratched at his jaw. “You noticed us watching?” When Gin raised his eyebrows, Bahari laughed sheepishly. “I guess we weren't, uh, subtle. But the Crimson Serpents _and_ the Straw Hats showing up within a couple days of each other is a little, uh….”

“Worrying,” Gin said when Bahari paused. He shrugged. “I get it.”

“So, uh.” Bahari licked his lips. “You're not claiming the island?”

“What?” Gin blinked, startled. He knew the Four Emperors and other pirate crews did that sort of thing, but he'd always thought it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. He frowned. “Can't speak for Luffy, but I don't do that.”

“Okay,” Bahari said. He smiled, relief smoothing all the anxiety from his face. “Good! That makes things--” He stopped with another laugh, shaking his head. He leaned over Gin, resting his hand on Gin’s stomach and stroking slow circles onto his skin. “So, if you're still here tomorrow, I've got this room for a couple days.”

Pleased by the offer, Gin reached out and caught Bahari's wrist, rubbing a thumb over his rough knuckles. He grinned. “I’m flattered, but I can't promise anything.” When disappointment flickered across Bahari's face, he paused, remembering Bahari's earlier words. “There's really no one else in town?”

Bahari shrugged. “There might be. But I'm shit at figuring out who.” His smile changed to a grimace. Gin, watching, suspected that he was thinking of a time when he'd been interested in the wrong guy.

“Yeah,” Gin said, and grinned, half in sympathy, half in regret. He didn't let himself think of Sanji as he added, “Been there.”

Bahari blinked. “Really?” He smiled and touched Gin's arm, running his fingers over the swell of muscle there. "Though you could probably handle anyone who took offense."

“Yeah, well,” Gin said dryly. Segar had had a nasty right hook and the element of surprise, Gin slow to realize that he was disgusted rather than disappointed. Haruna had made fun of his black eye long after it had healed, though she hadn't laughed about the rest of it. He huffed out a laugh. “It still gets messy.”

He didn't elaborate, though Bahari looked curious. Gin changed the subject, leaning up and kissing him until Bahari smiled against his mouth. When he broke the kiss, he said, “Can't promise you tomorrow. But once I sleep a little, I'll be up for more tonight.”

Bahari brightened. “Really?” 

“Really,” Gin said, and then lay back, closing his eyes. Instantly he was half-asleep, his thoughts beginning to drift back through the years to Paest Key.

 

* * *

 

**Two and a Half Years Earlier**

It was only after Gin had sat down at the restaurant that he studied the room and met the eyes of the first mate of the Seven Sails crew, who was devouring a plate piled high with steak and potatoes.

For a second Segar squinted at him. Then recognition hit. He laughed. “Well, hell, if it isn't-- what did the papers call you? The Red Serpents? No, the _Crimson_ Serpents! Captain Gin, right?” He leaned back in his chair and flashed Gin a wide, glittering smile, showing off at least three gold teeth. “Your bounty's pretty impressive. What'd you do to piss off the Navy?”

Gin opened his mouth to answer and paused, feeling a sudden tension move through his nakama. When he glanced at them, Haruna's expression was curiously blank and Kye and Jedrick were frowning. He studied them for a moment, but Kye and Jedrick didn't meet his eyes and Haruna said nothing.

Gin hadn't thought Segar was trying to pick a fight or be insulting, but if he was, the fight could wait until after Gin had eaten. He shrugged and said mildly, “Long story. How's the steak?”  

“Pretty good,” Segar said, still grinning. “But the salmon's better. Will I get to hear the story if I buy you and your crew a round of drinks?” Although he'd mentioned Gin's crew, he didn't seem to be paying attention to any of them, his gaze fixed on Gin. That was…interesting.

“No,” Haruna said before Gin could answer, her wooden look giving way to a sudden baring of her teeth. “Why don't you go ask the Navy?” Her expression stayed unfriendly, even when Gin tapped her knee with a half-questioning, half-warning fist, but she settled back in her chair and didn't say anything else.

Segar shrugged, ignoring her, though his eyes had narrowed a little as she'd spoken. When Gin didn't say anything, trying to make sense of Haruna’s strange temper, Segar shrugged again. “Suit yourself.”

Gin didn't like the tension between the two first mates, or the fact that there was some history between them he didn't know about; he was beginning to wonder if coming to Paest Key was a mistake. Gin studied Segar from the corner of his eye. Segar's wanted poster hadn't done him justice. He was bigger in person, tall and broad-shouldered, with hair that might've been light brown before the sun had bleached it yellow.

He was also obviously watching Gin, looking up after every few bites as though reassuring himself that Gin was still there.

It was both flattering and uncomfortable, and wouldn't lead anywhere when one of Gin's nakama disliked him so much, but Gin let him look for the time being. “I'll have the salmon,” he told the waitress. Then he leaned back in his chair. “What was that about?” he asked Haruna, low-voiced.

Haruna looked at him, back to being expressionless. In the months since she and the others from Swinburne's crew had joined the Tsuchinoko, Gin thought he'd gotten a handle on her expressions: how the corner of her mouth tucked in when she was amused, the furrow in her brow that meant she was trying to figure out how to point out a flaw in Gin's latest plan, the way she touched her kamas when she was feeling uneasy.

But he didn't recognize this look at all, her eyes dark, her face like stone. “His face annoys me,” she said.

Gin wondered why that sounded so familiar. Then he remembered that he'd used that excuse during their first meeting, after he'd lost his temper and smashed her old captain through the bar. Anger soured his stomach as he remembered how Swinburne had mistreated her and Meifeng. He didn't press for more.

After a few seconds she relaxed a little, like she'd expected him to demand answers. But she didn't smile for the rest of the meal, not even when Renshaw waved so enthusiastically at the waiter bearing their food that he tipped his chair over and tumbled into another table.

Gin divided his attention between Haruna and Segar, not sure what was going on but disliking it. When Segar finished his meal, he rose to his feet and headed towards Gin’s table. He wore a long, heavy green jacket, but Gin made out the shape of a pistol concealed at his hip.

Segar flashed his gold teeth again. His gaze lingered on Gin for a second, and then shifted to Haruna, whose expression had changed to one Gin recognized, the look she got before she got into a brawl. “Haruna,” Segar said, still smiling, but there was something in his tone that had Gin narrowing his eyes. “Find yourself a better captain this time?”

Haruna smiled a dangerous grin. “Segar. You’re with Captain Hotham now?” She shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “I guess Daria thought you weren't first mate material.”

Segar's expression soured for a second before he grinned again. “Nah, Hotham just made me a better offer.” He paused. Now Gin could hear the edge in his voice, sharp as a knife, like he was trying to wound as he continued, “Though we know what she thought of _you_ , don't we?” Haruna said nothing, back to her wooden look, and he turned his attention back to Gin. “Could I speak to you in private?”

“In private,” Gin said slowly, fighting against the anger that made him want to take his tonfa and smash those gold teeth out of Segar's mouth. He didn't know what was going on or who this Daria was, but no one talked to his nakama like that and got away with it.

“All right,” he said, getting to his feet. He kept one eye on Haruna, who watched them with dark, unreadable eyes. “Renshaw, pack up the rest of my dinner.”

“Okay, boss,” Renshaw said, though he frowned, glancing uneasily between Gin and Haruna.

Once he and Segar were alone in the hallway of the tavern, the corridor dim and cramped, Gin said, “If you talk to Haruna like that again, I'll sit back and let her rip your tongue out.” He kept his voice matter-of-fact, his expression unsmiling, but Segar laughed as though he was joking.

“Haruna never could take a joke,” Segar said, and then waved a dismissive hand. “But she's not why I wanted to talk to you alone.” He stared at Gin intently, the way he had during the meal, and Gin's belly gave a traitorous little twist in response. “How would you like it if we joined forces?”

Gin huffed out a laugh, amused in spite of himself. “Is that what they call it around here, joining forces?” He shook his head, unable to feel regretful about the missed opportunity. Segar wasn't really his type, and Haruna's hatred outweighed any interest. “Sorry. I don't fuck guys that have bad history with my nakama.”

Segar's face twisted. “ _What_?”

“I said no,” Gin said, wondering if he wasn't used to being rejected. “If that was it, I’m going to go back and see about dessert--”

Segar's fist slammed him clear through the door back into the dining room.

Gin landed at the feet of a waitress, who stared down at him with wide eyes and scuttled backwards, away from the potential fight. His ears rang with the force of the blow, his thoughts disjointed. He'd gotten to his knees when Segar stormed into the dining room.

Now Gin recognized his look not as disappointment but as disgust. Segar's hand darted beneath his green jacket. Even half-dazed, Gin reacted, knocking the pistol out of Segar's grip. It landed under a table, out of reach. 

Segar swung for him again. This time Gin ducked. When he slammed one of his tonfa into Segar's knee, he was rewarded by Segar's enraged howl of pain and the sound of something cracking.

Gin heard his nakama behind him, all rising to their feet and going for their weapons. He held up his hand, and felt them all stop. For a second he just breathed, taking stock of his injuries as Segar clutched at his knee and swore. Segar's meaty fist had split the skin above Gin's eye. Blood trickled unpleasantly down his face, and he could already feel his eye beginning to swell. The rest of his pain was minor, aches where the door splintering beneath him would leave bruises.

Gin looked at Segar. “So, joining forces meant…?”

“Hotham recognized your wanted poster. He's talked about you, how you were Don Krieg’s battle commander in the East Blue,” Segar spat. There was no sign of his gold teeth now; he was white-lipped with pain. “Hotham's been looking to start up his own armada, one that'll actually survive the Grand Line. I thought-- but he won't want a sick fuck like you.” 

The sound of a gun being cocked met Gin's ears. “Watch what you say about the captain,” Kye said, his voice dangerously soft.

Segar laughed and then swore again, clutching at his knee. “I'll say whatever the hell I want. Your captain thought I wanted to fuck him! And he probably would've said yes, if Haruna didn't hate me.” An ugly sneer crossed his face. “But maybe your whole crew’s full of perverts. Haruna was always panting after Daria--”

Haruna laughed, and Gin turned a little, because he didn't understand the bitter amusement in her voice. “Panting after her?” she said, and laughed again. “Try sleeping with her for a year and a half. Eighteen months on that cramped ship and you never figured that out?”

Segar's face twisted in disgust again, but whatever he wanted to say went unsaid, because Gin slammed the tonfa into his face. Segar coughed and spit out one of his shiny gold teeth, moaning weakly and clutching at his jaw.

For a second, Gin just looked at him. Then he realized what he'd done. He grimaced. “Sorry, Haruna. I told him next time he spoke to you, I'd let you rip out his tongue.”

“That's all right, boss,” Haruna said. There was a strange note in her voice. When he glanced at her, he was startled by her smile, the way it lit up her entire face. She nodded at him, her smile shifting to a more-familiar smirk. “You can owe me one.”

She turned towards the rest of their nakama, most of whom were staring. Nearly all of them wore varying degrees of astonishment, Meifeng staring at Haruna as though she’d grown two heads. Only Jedrick and Kye looked unsurprised, and Anfinn, strangely enough, looked happy, as though he'd been given good news, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

Haruna cleared her throat, and everyone, including Gin, looked at her. She grinned. “Who wants to help the captain drag Segar back to his ship and tell Hotham his first mate needs better manners?” 

It seemed everyone did.

 

* * *

 

**Present Time**

Gin came to with a start, the memory twisting half to nightmare as he woke. The memory shifted; he saw Sanji instead, Segar's contempt on Sanji's face, his eyes filled with disgust. His breath was tight in his chest, and he felt Sanji's hand on his arm, shaking him and about to shove him away.

An anxious voice from above him asked, "Are you all right?"

Gin opened his eyes. Bahari was bent over him, his face hidden by shadow. It was his hand on Gin’s shoulder that had woken him. Before Gin could say anything, Bahari let go and muttered, “Sorry, shouldn't wake someone up like that. You, uh-- I thought you were having a nightmare or something.”

Gin sat up. Already the bad dream was fading, leaving just that nasty feeling in his gut that wouldn't fade until he'd had a bottle of rum or some other distraction. It was a feeling he'd had a lot during those two long years when Sanji and the other Straw Hats had dropped out of sight, and no one had known if they were dead or in hiding.

He shook his head, trying to push the thought away. Sanji was fine. He was better than fine, stronger and taller than when Gin had last seen him on the Baratie. There wasn't any reason to think about the bad dreams filled with plenty of terrible reasons for why the Straw Hats had vanished, or the concerned looks Gin's nakama had worn as Gin clutched grimly to rumors about Straw Hats sightings.

He rubbed a hand over his face and shrugged, as though that would shake off the bad memories. “It's okay,” he said, and grinned though he knew Bahari couldn't see it. “Though I wouldn't say no if you wanted to try and make it up to me.” 

Bahari laughed, surprised but pleased. His hand fumbled in the dark and stroked Gin's arm. “Then let me apologize,” he said, the bed shifting as he leaned closer, and Gin closed his eyes and didn't think of Sanji at all.  


	10. Gin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I was stuck for a while on this (writing an action scene AND emotional fallout is hard). Thanks for your patience!
> 
> Warnings for the chapter include homophobia and canon-typical violence.

For a few seconds, Gin wasn’t sure what had woken him. Then sunlight stung his eyes. He muttered a protest, flinging one arm over his face. He stayed like that for a while, until he realized that he wasn’t going to fall back to sleep.

Raising his arm, he found that Bahari was gone. When he touched Bahari’s side of the bed, it was cold to the touch. Gin huffed out a laugh, remembering how earnestly Bahari had insisted that Gin spending the night was fine. Instead it looked like the guy had crept out of the room, not wanting to disturb him.

“It was your room. Should’ve kicked me out,” Gin muttered. He shook his head. Then he laughed again, amused. Maybe Bahari had left him with the bill. It would serve him right for letting his guard down like that and spending the entire night with a stranger. He could imagine Haruna’s smirk as she asked if he’d enjoyed himself.

His stomach pinched at him, reminding him that aside from The Lion and the Giant’s whisky, he hadn’t drunk or eaten since before the sparring match, when Sanji had cooked them both an early breakfast. At the thought of Sanji, some of Gin’s amusement faded. He wondered what excuse his nakama had given when Sanji had noticed Gin was gone.

Then again, maybe Sanji hadn’t noticed, too distracted with his waitresses. Gin’s belly pinched at him again. When he raised the shutters, squinting against the light, it looked like early morning. He hoped the tavern served breakfast. He crouched beside the bed. His belongings were still where he’d stowed them while Bahari had been distracted undressing.

He ran a hand over one of the tonfa’s handles; his thoughts turned again to the upcoming rematch. Anticipation settled his stomach. When he rose to his feet, he was smiling.

“Hey, boss,” Meifeng said cheerfully. She had paused when he’d stepped into the hallway, but now she resumed braiding her tangled hair. She raised an eyebrow, glancing past him. “Do I get an introduction?”

“He left before me,” Gin said, and grinned when Meifeng pulled a face and said, “Damn, you got him out of there so fast none of us got a good look. Finn was dying of curiosity.”

Then something changed in her face. She hesitated. “Sanji was asking after you. Jedrick said you were following doctor’s orders and getting an early night’s rest.”

Gin snorted, torn between pleasure that Sanji had noticed after all and annoyance over Sanji’s certain smugness at Jedrick’s excuse. He touched his head where the strongest kick had landed. It ached a little, but not as much as it had yesterday. “Shit. Jedrick really had to go with that? I’ll never hear the end of it from Sanji.”

Meifeng shrugged. “Yeah, well, you know Jedrick. His head’s full of doctoring and fancy words. No room to be a good liar.” She paused and added, her eyes warm with sudden humor, “Makes for a bad pirate, but hey, takes all kinds….”

They both turned at the sound of hurried footsteps. It was the bartender from the night before.

Meifeng’s smile turned puzzled. “Domnall? Something wrong?”

Domnall’s infatuated grin of the night before was nowhere to be found. Instead he wore an anxious, tight-lipped look. Glancing around furtively, he stopped in front of them. “There’s, uh, trouble down in the dining room.”

“What kind of trouble?” Gin asked.

Domnall licked his lips and looked around again. When Meifeng put a hand on his arm, he grimaced and tried to smile. It came out crooked and worried. “Look. Um. Brohst was claimed about a year ago. The crew’s, uh, objecting to you and the Straw Hats being here.”

Gin remembered Bahari’s anxious question about Gin claiming the island and the relief in his face when Gin had said no. What had he thought would happen if Gin had tried to claim it? Probably, Gin thought dryly, exactly what would happen now if the other crew refused to believe that Crimson Serpents didn’t want the island.

“We’re not supposed to talk about it,” Domnall said miserably. “If they knew I told you….” He trailed off, his dark skin turning ashen at some memory.

Gin looked at him for a moment, wondering what the crew had done to ensure an entire island’s silence. Then he said, “Good thing Meifeng and I decided to look for breakfast and stumbled into things, then.”

Domnall managed a wan smile which grew stronger when Meifeng kissed his cheek and added, “Right, you slept in and I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Now go lie low. And don’t yell too much if we break a few things.”

“All right, just try not to destroy the bar,” Domnall said, and kissed her back.

Once he was gone, Meifeng raised an eyebrow. Her expression set into familiar dangerous lines, and she bounced a little on the balls of her feet, eager for the fight. “Well, boss? How do we want to do this? I left my swords back on the Tsuchinoko, but I don’t mind improvising a little.”

Gin smiled. He’d seen Meifeng’s “improvising” in the past. It was always impressive. “Let’s see who we’re up against first,” he said. “We might be able to handle them ourselves, or I’ll send you for reinforcements.”

Meifeng nodded. The gleam in her eyes hungered for the former. “Whatever you say, boss.”

 

* * *

 

The door to the dining room was slightly ajar. Gin stepped close, listening.

“We’d like to avoid any unpleasantness,” a man was saying. “That’s why we wanted to speak to you alone.”

Gin recognized the voice, though the last time he’d heard Hotham speak the man’s voice had been a guttural string of curses, the words half-lost beneath the roar of the fire destroying his ship.

“Shit,” Meifeng muttered, the word breathed into Gin’s ear. Disgust twisted her face. “Why the hell is Hotham here? Didn’t he go crawling back to the North Blue?”

“Guess not,” Gin said. There wasn’t any hope to convince Hotham that they’d accidentally encroached on Seven Sails territory. This was going to involve a fight one way or another. He frowned. “We’ll need reinforcements.”

“On it, boss,” Meifeng said, and went swiftly down the hall towards the exit.

Gin stepped closer to the door, peering through the crack.

The Seven Sails crew faced away from the door, all seated except for Hotham, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Hotham’s voice had been calm, but Gin could see tension in his white-knuckled hands.

Rising a little on his feet, Gin tried to peer over them and see who Hotham was using his reasonable tone on, but Segar’s broad shoulders blocked everything.

“I’ve done a bit of research into your crew,” Hotham said. He sounded as Gin remembered him, his mild voice less like a pirate's and more like a kindly teacher's, calm and sympathetic and sensible as he spouted bullshit. “I know that you met Gin and some of his men when they were still under Krieg. I just don’t know _why_ you would form an alliance with them.”

“We're friends,” was the answer. Gin swore silently as he recognized Luffy's voice. Luffy sounded confused and a little irritated, like he was tired of repeating himself. “Don't you have friends?”

Hotham's hands clenched tightly behind his back. “ _Friends_?” He rolled the word around in his mouth. “It's dangerous to have friends on the Grand Line. I prefer not to take that risk, myself.” He shook his head. “But the Crimson Serpents don't have friends. Temporary allies, occasionally, but more often they have enemies. It's not just the Navy that hates them. If you take my advice--”

“You promised breakfast,” Luffy said, interrupting. Despite the situation Gin had to fight back a laugh at his plaintive tone. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that Luffy had been coaxed away from his ship with promises of food.

“Sania, see what you can find for Captain Luffy,” said Hotham. One of his crew rose to her feet with a muttered, “Yes, captain.” Hotham's hands unclasped and lifted in a beseeching gesture. “Listen. Perhaps you knew Gin in the East Blue, but the Grand Line changes people. He--”

“Is disgusting.” This came from Segar, bursting out of him in a snarl. He leaned forward in his chair, and now Gin could see that Nico Robin was with Luffy as well, wearing a faint, unreadable smile as she watched Segar. “He'll spread his legs for any man who wants him.” He turned and added with a sneer, “Bahari can tell you all the nasty details, can’t you, Bahari?”

Gin started and then looked more closely at Hotham's crew. He'd been too focused on Hotham and Segar to see Bahari, the man’s thin face made almost unrecognizable by misery. Bahari looked down at his feet and said nothing as Segar laughed.

Gin had a moment to viciously curse his own stupidity before Hotham said, “Segar puts it crudely, I'm afraid, but he isn't wrong. Look how Gin's ruined one of my best men!” He laid a hand upon Bahari's shoulder, and though the touch seemed gentle, Gin saw Bahari flinch. “I admire his dedication to our crew, but--” Hotham shrugged. “Gin's sickness is infectious. It has to be rooted out.”

It was the same thing Hotham had said before, and explained in the same reasonable tone that had made Gin's crew so furious the last time they'd encountered the Seven Sails. Gin remembered how white Jedrick had gotten, listening. Anfinn had actually had to hold him back; otherwise Jedrick would’ve fought Hotham himself.

“I wonder who he wants on your crew,” Segar said. Then he looked at Nico Robin and laughed harshly, his gaze traveling slowly over her body and lingering on her chest. He leered. “Or maybe Haruna--”

Gin kicked the door open so hard that it came off of its hinges. He strolled inside, twirling both of his tonfa. He smiled as Hotham's crew whirled to face him, their expressions varying shades of alarm and fury-- and in Bahari's face, a strange relief.

He ignored them all for a moment and met Luffy's eyes. “Luffy, I would've warned you that the Seven Sails are idiots. Has Hotham complained how we burned his ship yet?”

It was Nico Robin who answered him. “No,” she said, still with that small smile. “He and his first mate were too busy describing your...perversions.” She looked at him, her head tilted a little. “Spreading your legs for any man, I believe was how they put it.”

Pinned beneath that steady gaze, Gin remembered her wanted poster and the rumors about her. He knew better than to lie to the woman once known as the Devil Child. He still hesitated a second more, weighing the odds of Luffy and Robin turning out to have the same views as Hotham. Then he shrugged and grinned at her. “ _Any_ man? No. I think Segar's still a little hurt I turned him down.”

“You!” Segar's face was red. “I didn't-- you and Haruna--”

“Segar,” Gin said, and his tone made Segar pause in reaching for the pistol beneath his coat. “Remember what happened the last time you insulted Haruna in front of me?”

Segar touched his jaw, grimacing, and then scowled and drew his pistol.

Gin didn't give him the chance to aim. He broke Segar's wrist and then caught Segar's neck between his tonfa, using all of his strength to lift Segar off the floor. He watched as Segar's face turned purple, his legs kicking wildly. Gin waited until Segar was almost unconscious, slumped between his tonfa like half-dead weight. Then he said calmly, “Next time I'll break your neck.”

“Gin?”

Gin's grip slipped on his tonfa and Segar fell at his feet. He started to turn, but his limbs felt weighed down as though turned to stone by Sanji's call. He remembered his nightmare, with Segar’s disgust on Sanji’s face. How had he not considered there might be other Straw Hats there too?

Slowly, reluctantly, he met Sanji's gaze. He had only a second to feel sick at Sanji’s expression before there was a loud cracking sound beneath his feet. Gin stared down at the thorn-covered vines that had erupted from the floor, his mind slow and stupid with unhappiness. Before he could react, the vines twined around him, the thorns digging painfully through his clothes. One long sharp thorn pressed against his throat.

He was pinned in place, Sanji hidden from view as Hotham stepped between them. The other man looked pleased with himself, smirking. “I admit, before I came to the Grand Line I thought that devil fruit was as much of an abomination as people like you. But I’ve found that it does have its uses.” He stepped closer. When he waved one of his hands, the vines rustled and tightened until pain pricked all over Gin. Hotham hummed thoughtfully. “What were you saying to Segar? That you'd snap his neck? Perhaps I'll snap yours.”

“Gin?” Luffy called.

Gin answered the unasked question. “I'll handle this.” He took a deep breath. Despite the pain, his mind cleared, focusing on his enemy. It was easier to consider how to defeat Hotham than to think about how Sanji had stared at him like he was a stranger. He even managed a brief grin in Luffy's direction.  

“Really?” Sneering now but still sounding amused, Hotham took another step closer. “I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you.” He took one more step. Now he was within reach.

Gin lifted his arms, the faint prickling discomfort increasing, and pressed the hidden catch in the tonfa's handles. There was a clatter of wood as the tips of the tonfa fell at his feet. Then he pressed the tonfa against the nearest vine.

The vines recoiled as though he'd burned them. Gin ignored the hot pain in his throat and arms as the retreating thorns tore at his flesh. The vines writhed and seemed to half-hide behind Hotham. Before Hotham could back away, Gin pressed the tips of the tonfa against his chest.

“What…?” Hotham's strength fled and he fell to the floor, his vines browning and wilting until they crumbled to pieces around him. His face blanched pale, so white that his features looked like a corpse. He drew in a struggling breath, his mouth working as though trying to speak, but only a harsh gasp escaped him.

Gin’s wounds stung; he could feel a few scratches throb and warm as they dripped blood. He kept the tonfa against Hotham's chest, leaning against it. He didn't dare to look over at the Straw Hats to see if Sanji's expression was still the same. “Segar asked me once why the Crimson Serpents have such a large bounty. I told him it was a long story. It's not. We stole an entire shipment of seastone from the Navy.”

Hotham tried to swear, but his voice was still a strangled, weak sound in his throat.

Gin paused for a second more to see if Hotham could summon up enough strength to speak. When it was obvious he wouldn’t, Gin knocked him out cold. Then he looked up at Hotham's crew. He frowned. Bahari was gone. Gin remembered the way that Bahari had winced at Hotham’s touch and his relieved look when Gin had interrupted. Well, Gin would deal with him later.

He met each pirate’s gaze, taking satisfaction in their collective flinching. “I don't claim islands, but I think it's best if you leave now and don’t come back.”

A few of them started to back away towards the doorway. They paused as Segar struggled to his feet, cursing. He had a long dagger in his hand; his other arm dangled uselessly at his side, his wrist swollen and red. Segar managed one menacing step towards Gin. Then he turned into a blur of movement, pin-wheeling away from Gin. Crashing through a chair and then a table, Segar slammed into the nearest wall. He crumpled to the floor and didn’t move.

Sanji lowered his foot, hissing out a sharp exhale around the cigarette in his mouth. He glanced at Hotham’s crew. His eyes narrowed. “Gin said to leave. Or do you have shitty hearing as well as a shitty captain?”

The crew didn’t need any more encouragement. They bolted, a few lingering just long enough to drag their unconscious captain and first mate behind them. The last of the crew, Sania, emerged from the kitchen, took one look at her fleeing crew-mates, and then abandoned her plate of rolls to join them.

Gin watched them go, though he kept most of his attention on Sanji, half-hoping Sanji would look at him and half-hoping he wouldn’t. But Sanji was scowling after Hotham’s crew, his face flushed and his teeth bared.

“Should we be expecting any more of your enemies?” Robin asked as the last of the Seven Sails pirates leaped or stumbled over the broken door and disappeared.

Gin didn’t look away from Sanji. He’d changed his mind. He wanted Sanji to look at him. Every second he didn’t was making Gin’s wounds hurt worse, somehow. The faint but steady dripping of his blood upon the floor was too loud in the silence of the room. He pressed his hand to his throat where the pain was sharpest, trying to staunch the bleeding. He shrugged. “Doubt it. Well, unless the Navy shows up wanting their seastone back.”

He’d aimed for sounding unconcerned, but he must have missed the mark, because Sanji snapped, still without looking at him, “When’s the last time you ate?”

Gin thought about it. His stomach twisted unpleasantly. He had to swallow a couple times before he answered, feeling both hungry and sick all at once. “Yesterday morning,” he admitted.

Sanji swore, fervent and so profane that Gin was surprised his ears weren't blistering. Then he stood in front of Gin, his visible eye narrowed. “Sit down, idiot. I’ll make you something.” He jabbed his cigarette at him like a punctuation to the order.

Despite Sanji’s scowl, relief as strong as a tsunami crashed over Gin. There was frustrated concern on Sanji’s face, and not-- He grew dizzy on his relief, groping blindly behind him until someone gripped his elbow and maneuvered him to a chair. When he turned to thank his helper, he found it was one of Robin’s devil-fruit hands. It dissolved as he stared. Would he ever get used to devil-fruit powers?

“Sanji, I haven't had breakfast either,” Luffy whined.

“Yeah, well, Gin hasn't eaten in twenty-four hours,” Sanji said sourly. “I'll feed him first.” He stomped his cigarette to pieces beneath his shoe. Then he pulled out another cigarette. His long fingers were strangely clumsy. It took him a few tries before the cigarette was lit. He took one sharp, greedy inhale of it before he stalked into the kitchen.

Gin stared at Sanji's retreating back. He licked his lips, uncertain in a way he hadn't felt since after Krieg had dismissed him and he'd found himself staring at a future not ruled by Krieg's orders. He weighed his options now, trying to be logical even as everything in him wanted to go after Sanji and try to explain. But maybe it was better just to pretend nothing had happened, though that was a miserable thought. 

Luffy laughed, his good humor apparently restored by the promise of breakfast. He threw himself into the chair next to Gin, nearly tipping over as he tilted the chair towards Gin. He was grinning, his eyes bright with curiosity, as he said, “You stole an entire shipment of seastone? That must've been fun!”

Gin's lips twitched, remembering how close they'd all come to nearly dying. Then there had been the three months after the theft, during which it felt as if every single Navy ship had been after them. It'd been worth it, though, to have that protection against devil-fruit users on the Grand Line. It had saved the crew more than once. “That's one way of looking at it,” he said. He accepted a handkerchief from Robin with a muttered thanks, pressing it to his throat. The other cuts were shallower, the bleeding already slowing.

He turned at the sound of a struggle. Most of his crew rushed into the room, weapons at ready and Anfinn and Renshaw dragging Bahari between them. Luong let out a disappointed groan as he realized they'd missed the fight, and Meifeng looked as though she wanted to add her voice to his complaint.

Jedrick frowned, hurrying towards Gin with a dismayed, “Captain!”

“It's nothing serious,” Gin said absently, watching Bahari. The man was terrified, struggling wildly and looking down when Gin tried to meet his eyes. Obviously he assumed that Gin would hold a grudge. Gin studied him, thinking. Bahari worked for Hotham, but he'd also given Gin his real name when Gin had asked. Those eager kisses hadn't been faked. And then there was the way he'd flinched when Hotham had touched him, and everything Gin knew about Hotham.

“You know him, captain?” Haruna leaned against his table, her dark gaze moving slowly between Bahari and Gin. Her eyes lingered a little on his injuries, a small furrow creasing her brow, and Gin knew he'd get Haruna's equivalent of an earful later. “We caught him running like his life depended on it.”

Gin nodded, waving Jedrick back before he could start fussing and derail Gin's plans. “Bahari,” he said as Bahari twitched and turned gray-faced with fright. Gin leaned forward, waiting until Bahari actually looked at him. He kept his voice low and even. “Want to join my crew?”

“Join your....” Bahari blinked at him. "Join...."

Gin waited until Bahari had stopped laughing. Then he said, ignoring how understanding touched a few of his crew's faces, Haruna's among them, “I know something about loyalty and captains who waste it. Hotham's a bastard. You're welcome on the Tsuchinoko.” He paused, but Bahari was still staring at him. “Though there are a few conditions.”

That Bahari understood, because he blinked and straightened in Anfinn and Renshaw's hands. His eyes were fixed upon Gin now. He licked his lips, wary and still suspicious. “Conditions.”

“I don't sleep with my nakama,” Gin said bluntly. “You'll have to find someone willing on shore when we're at port.” He remembered the way Bahari had grimaced and mentioned past mistakes. “And if you run into trouble, we'll have your back.”

The disbelief in Bahari's face was changing to uncertainty. “I,” he said, and stopped. He glanced up at Anfinn and Renshaw, as though trying to see if this was a joke, but they were eyeing him curiously now. He licked his lips again. “Can I think about it?”

Gin shrugged. “Of course. It's your choice.” He nodded at Anfinn and Renshaw. They released Bahari, who stared around as though he didn't quite believe they'd let him go that easily. Then he bolted out the door.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then Jedrick said, a little petulantly, “ _Now_ may I look at your injuries, captain?” 

Gin grinned at his worried nakama. “Sure.” He dropped the handkerchief onto the table and paused as gold flashed at the corner of his eye. He looked up into Sanji's face, smiling instinctively as Sanji handed him a spoon and a steaming bowl that smelled of egg, miso, and pickles. His smile faded as Sanji didn't look at him, turning sharply on heel.

“Sanji,” he said. He wished he hadn't, because Jedrick blinked at him, something startled in his eyes, and even Luffy's normally animated features went strangely still. Heat crept into Gin's face. He cleared his throat, ignoring the discomfort. This time he tried to sound normal. “Sanji, uh, thanks for breakfast.”

Sanji paused on his way back into the kitchen. For a second Gin didn't think he was going to answer. Then he said, “Eat before it gets cold. Luffy, I'll have your food in a minute,” and disappeared into the kitchen.

Gin's belly turned over unpleasantly. He wondered if it was too late to burn Hotham's ship a second time. It would distract Haruna from whatever unpleasant fate for Sanji she was imagining, judging by her narrowed eyes. He looked down at his bowl. He took a bite of his breakfast, but couldn't taste it. He forced another bite down. He was vaguely aware of Jedrick sighing over his cuts and dabbing at them with an ointment that stung, but that too he barely felt.

Then Sanji was back, setting the bowl in front of Luffy. As Luffy threw himself at the food as though he had been the one who hadn't eaten in a day, Sanji turned a little towards Gin. He was breathing a little quickly, agitated puffs of smoke escaping the corner of his mouth, his face flushed from the heat of the kitchen, and he still wouldn't meet Gin's eyes. “Well?” he asked sharply. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “How is it?”

Gin blinked. It was a struggle to keep his smile from growing too wide with relief that Sanji was talking directly to him. He steadied himself with a quick glance at Haruna's unimpressed look. “Perfect,” he said, succeeding in sounding normal. He made a show of stuffing another spoonful in his mouth. This time he could almost taste it. After he'd swallowed, he added, still aiming for normal, “Your jellyfish experiment is ready today, right? If your nakama like the taste, I don't mind helping you get a few more jellyfish. They'll survive in the aquarium, won't they?”

He kept his head lowered over the bowl, but his eyes fixed on Sanji's face, and saw Sanji shake his head a little, his mouth twisting around the cigarette. Then Sanji straightened, blowing out a slow breath, and met Gin's eyes. There was something like a challenge in his face now. “Is that your way of saving you're too beat up for our rematch?”

Gin laughed sharply, swallowing back more laughter before it could get strange. Still, he knew his grin stretched from ear to ear as he shot back, “Like your kick and Hotham's devil-fruit trick could do much damage.”

Sanji's smile turned dangerous, but it was a familiar look, and Gin welcomed it. Sanji turned towards Jedrick. “Remind your captain of those words when you're patching him up tonight.”

Jedrick sighed. He crossed his arms against his chest, frowning. He glanced between them, his gaze lingering on the ointment-covered cuts on Gin's arms. “I don't believe the captain should--” He stopped with a sigh as Renshaw flung an arm across his shoulders and bared his teeth at Sanji.

“You might be Black Leg Sanji, but Gin will kick your ass.”

Sanji smirked. "Is that so?"

Gin took another bite of his breakfast. This time the pickle burst between his teeth, and he could taste the delicate balance of egg, rice, miso, and a dozen other flavors he couldn't put a name to. Maybe he didn't need to burn Hotham's ship again after all. He leaned back in his chair, looking up at Sanji, his stomach settling at the sight of that familiar grin.

"I guess we'll see," he said. If he was disappointed that Sanji acted as though the encounter with the Seven Sails crew had never happened, well, no one was the wiser, except perhaps Haruna, who kept her steady gaze on Gin and scowled whenever Sanji tried to draw her into the discussion. 


End file.
